


Hazbin Hotel: Foil

by TheGrudge154



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Awkward Crush, Drug Use, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Poor Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), Valentino Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 53,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGrudge154/pseuds/TheGrudge154
Summary: One secretly wishes for someone to genuinely care about him beneath a front of flirty confidence and indecency. The other is certain that he has no interest in dabbling in such things and never will. But when a night of talking over drinks quickly escalates into Angel Dust pining after a confused Alastor, both of them must face questions that they didn't think they'd ever have to answer during their tenure in Hell.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 722





	1. Misunderstood Intentions

“Drownin' your sorrows tonight, ain't ya?”  
“Whatever do you mean?”  
  
Husk frowned with a rap of his claws against the bar tabletop, the sound of faint jazz music floating through the air like a breeze on the night air. His other hand was clutching a large glass, filled halfway with the distinct amber colour of cognac as he rolled it towards himself with his wrist. Lips touched the cool surface of the rim, contrasting the warmth in his throat from the alcohol as he took a hefty gulp.   
“You know _exactly_ what I mean,” the cat demon huffed in his gravelly timbre, glancing across his bar with an all knowing look towards the source of the music. His fellow patron. “After all these years you've been makin' me work for you with all of your shit, you think I can't read you when you share a drink with me?”  
“I admit, you would do better than most at 'reading' me, Husker,” Alastor replied, his signature grin stretched wide across his face. His own serving of brandy slipped past his lips, sighing at the burning sensation sliding down his neck. “But there are simply no sorrows to drown! Such a thing is best saved for wretched beings that _deserve_ said drowning.”  
  
Nights like this had become a bit of a custom over the years of their association. Every now and then, Husk and Alastor would meet and share a few drinks, talking over their exploits and possible future endeavours. Something not quite a friendship, but on good enough terms to be mistaken for one from the outside. Or at least, that's how Husk saw it. He still had a hard time agreeing with or keeping up with the schemes running through the Radio Demon's head, even if what he paid tended to be decent.  
Alastor himself was not above needing these moments to unwind and relax, even as a demon of his repute. He didn't really have many vices to indulge in Hell these days, save for toppling overlords who had allowed themselves to become complacent and blissfully ignorant of his power. But now that such things had become stale over decades of repetition, sharing a drink with one of his closest associates was certainly welcome. _He_ at least saw Husk as a friend, which is why he was currently in a less than professional state.

“Indeed, I believe you're mistaken!” Alastor exclaimed, raising his drink above him in a salute as his radio static shuddered the air around him and interrupted the music. With his tattered coat slung over the back of his seat and the sleeves of his suit shirt rolled up to expose pale skin cut off by the black of his clawed gloves, the infamous 'monster of chaos' was far more laid back than anyone had ever probably seen him outside of the bartender and Niffty.   
“Al. Remember you're talkin' to a gambling alcoholic,” Husk growled with another swig of his drink, yellow eyes wandering over the Radio Demon's obviously tipsy self before he winced at the feedback. Christ, he got loud when he was hitting the sauce. “I've gotten pretty good at readin' poker faces, even your stupid grinnin' one when you're pissed.”  
“Then maybe you need to try harder! Your talents may be failing, my friend!” the deer demon shot back, throwing his head back in a laugh before he downed another swallow of cognac. One that almost rivalled Husks' in strength, at that.

“Bullshit,” the feline interrupted before Alastor had a chance to protest. “You may like your Courvoisier, but you don't like it _this_ much. You're worried that the kid's Hotel is startin' to take off, ain't ya?”  
“Nonsense!” Alastor insisted, keeping a hold of his glass while his other hand curled into a fist to rest his head against. “Young Charlotte may have been able to attract some attention thanks to _my_ efforts, but it's all doomed to end in failure! I am simply relishing the anticipation of when they realise it is all for nought and their _spirits will be crushed._ ”  
“Uh huh,” said Husk blankly, unphased by the Radio Demon's threatening speech briefly slipping out of the filter that coated it. “The spooky shit may work on her, but it ain't foolin' me. You're worried you're not gonna get your investment back. Every gambler has that thought somewhere inside 'em.”

Alastor's perpetual smile seemed to falter for the tiniest of passing moments. Though he'd never say so, he could concede that Husk at least had some iota of truth to the point he was trying to make. The last few months had thrown the Hotel into the spotlight in the exact opposite way of the disastrous interview that first attracted him to it. Patrons from all over the City were at least sticking heir noses in to see whether or not the pitch would work, whether or not redemption was truly possible.  
And Alastor also had to admit that Charlie was rising to the challenge with the same enthusiasm as the show tune that had entertained him back then. With the new help and all the improvements he'd provided, she'd started to make big strides in getting more demons on board to become less... well, demonic. Of course, that was still easier said than done, but she was trying.  
Even if there was still a long way for the Hotel to go, to admit that Husk was at least partially right in what he was saying simply wouldn't do. No, Alastor instead decided to maintain his initial excuse and finish off his cognac. He rapped a sharp fingertip against the side of the glass with a flash of his glowing yellow fangs, signalling he wanted topping up.  
“Be a good sport and top me off, eh?”  
  
Husk grumbled for a moment as he reached for the bottle to the side, pulling the top off and pouring a decent amount of brown liquid back into the vessel. He slid it to the side, leaning towards Alastor while resting on his arms.  
“Wish I knew why you couldn't just admit it sometimes,” he remarked, his gaze looking at his 'employer' right in the eye. “You think I'm gonna blab that you actually have _feelings_? Ruin your image?”  
“My image is already well established, dear Husker,” Alastor responded, his tone slipping into a smooth richness that complimented the alcohol he was drinking. “The only ones around this part of the Pentagram who would be worried about image to that degree would be-”  
“Oh, Husky! I'm ready for my fixin's~!”

Alastor's ears twitched upright as another voice from behind him somewhere interrupted him mid-sentence. Speak of the devil. Or spider, to be more precise. It was a voice that was unmistakeable to both of them, and one that Husk was groaning rather loudly at with how hard he was rolling his eyes.  
“Great, just when I was startin' to enjoy my fuckin' evening...”  
“Now don't be like that, pussycat~” purred Angel Dust, the lithe demon approaching the bar and sliding onto a stool next to Alastor. “I ain't plannin' on being _that_ outrageous 'til I got some intoxicatin' substances in me.”  
  
As he felt the presence of the flamboyant fellow settle in almost uncomfortably close to him, Alastor's crimson eyes glanced towards Angel. He noticed that the spider wasn't in his typical attire tonight, the adult star having chosen to wear a thick pink and white striped sweater that came down far enough to reach his long legs.   
The sweater's 'neck' only came up to just below his shoulders, exposing the white fur beneath, and the sleeves were long enough to partially cover his un-gloved hands and leave only the pink tips of his fingers visible. Black straps of what were undeniably feminine lingerie ran over those shoulders, and the look was completed with the spider's signature thigh high black boots, stockings and pink eye shadow.  
  
“Sorry, _baby_ ”, Husk shot back with a mockery of the nickname Angel often used with a fierce scowl to accompany it. “But I've been given orders not to serve you. You ain't done enough to earn a drink yet.”  
“Oh, is that so?” Angel grinned, batting his long lashes towards the cat as he reached into the pocket of his jumper. “'Cuz I just so happen to be sittin' on a pass from Princess Big Shot herself for one night's drinkin'. All for bein' a _real_ good boy this past week.”  
“You? Bein' good? You must've really pulled the wool over her eyes or you're even more desperate than I thought to get a fix.”  
“Whatever ya prefer to think, Husky!” Angel cooed back, resting his head in his hands with a fluttering girlish giggle. All before his voice suddenly turned much more demanding and one of his lower arms pushed the pass forward to prove it. “Get me the good stuff, a Bellini. _Grazie mia cara~_ ”

Alastor smirked to himself, taking another long sip as both customer and bartender bickered. Maybe he just found it more amusing than he would otherwise because the alcohol meant such noise couldn't bother him. Or maybe it was simple relief because Angel was dressed actually modestly for once and hadn't tried to do anything to him. Yet.  
Husk picked up the creased paper, noting Charlie's handwriting on the bottom as proof of its authenticity. As much as he didn't want to concede, he wasn't about to risk crossing Lucifer's girl, even if Angel could've easily forged it or something. Wasn't worth losing his fur and feathers over, even as much as he had been hoping to take the spider down a peg.  
As the bartender got to work with a growl of defeat, sorting out the various ingredients for the chosen cocktail, Angel rotated on his bar stool to better face Alastor. His mismatched eyes wandered over the Radio Demon's form, kind of liking how the undressed casual look made him seem less of the uptight prick that he usually was. Alastor felt that stare upon him, barely turning his head a fraction of an inch.  
“Good evening, my effeminate friend.”  
  
Angel found that mildly surprising, his eyes switching between the booze and the Radio Demon's plain looking smile. He must've been nursing on this stuff most of the night to be _this_ relaxed so close to a porn star, especially without clamming up like the first time they spoke to one another. The spider liked that. A chance to actually talk instead of just being dismissed couldn't be a bad thing, surely?  
“What's shakin', Smiles?”  
“A drink, for one!” Alastor replied, the glow of his teeth illuminating his cup as he idly twirled it around with a suppressed bit of laughter to prove the point. “And yourself?”  
“The same, with any luck. If our lovely bartender'll get his ass in gear...”  
“Go fuck yourself!” Husk yelled from the back.  
“Ah, ya wish I would for ya, sweetie~”

Alastor cringed for a moment as Angel's talent for sex-laden speech shone as brightly as it ever did, just as another question was put his way.  
“And what's yer choice o' poison tonight?”  
“Cognac, my dear!” he answered, raising the glass above his head as if to allow it to gleam in the glow of the bar lights. “Only the finest! And Husker certainly knows how to get it, though I never ask where.”  
“That right, huh?” the star hummed with a tilt of his head. “With your kinda rep, I thought ya'd be drinkin' _actual_ poison.”

Alastor chuckled to himself at Angel's attempt of a joke, the distinct sound of a laugh track following it as his static fluctuated in the air around him. He had to admit that the spider demon's less flamboyant demeanour this evening was beginning to mildly impress him. He was even trying to be downright chatty.  
The Radio Demon had always assumed that such a thing would never happen around Angel. To him, it seemed the arachnid 'actor' was more interested in everyone being free game to his sultry advances within Hotel premises, especially after the rather... blunt offer when they first spoke. But Angel was being well behaved tonight for whatever reason, only reacting with flirty language rather than trying to initiate something on purpose.   
Curious... perhaps it would be a chance to converse reasonably for once, maybe find some similarities. That alone would be rather entertaining to consider.

“You speak Italian, I see,” Alastor commented to start things off, closing his eyes again as he took another gulp. “I didn't realise that was part of your repertoire or heritage.”  
“What can I say? Grew up in New York and I was told to never forget yer roots,” Angel quipped back, shooting the deer a flashing grin. “I don't make a big deal outta that stuff, though. I'm already a walkin' stereotypical flamer, a guido gangster from the Big Apple on top o' that's a bit much, ain't it?”  
“Gangster...?” the deer asked, his ears seeming to perk up at the word as he turned a little more in his seat. “I cannot imagine you in any such organisation!”  
“Better believe it, Grim Grin,” Angel replied with a roll of his shoulders, reaching out an arm to take his cocktail when Husk finally slid it over to him. “I didn't get sent down here for doin' nothin', ya know.”

Now Alastor was more than just curious. Truth be told, he knew very little about Angel outside of his employment at Valentino's studio and what he had briefly seen on the news that day. He'd seen the advertisements in the crimson districts, he'd seen some clips of that turf war on the picture show, but he knew nothing about Angel's past life on the surface or about him as a person.   
To hear he had some notches on his belt when it came to criminality was a pleasant discovery. Perhaps it would be the first thing that they would have common ground on? And if Alastor was going to maintain his front of wanting to help Charlie, surely making some effort to know her patrons would be a good idea anyway? In his tipsy state, 'why the hell not' seemed an appropriate response to that question.  
“Then I must ask you to tell me more, my friend!” Alastor finally exclaimed, turning around on the stool to properly face his fellow demon as he rested his chin on one of his hands. “I'm keen to hear what methods you employed in your work!”  
  
Angel froze. He'd barely touched his drink to his lips, the flavour of peach and Prosecco only just gracing his tongue when Alastor insisted they continue that topic. He lowered the glass to the bartop, looking towards the Radio Demon with a face that suggested he had been completely sideswiped by it. The spider blinked, clearing his throat.   
“Uh... ya what?”  
“Your work, your life as one of these 'gangster' types, haha!” the deer explained loudly with another laugh track. “I know next to nothing of such things where I'm from, so I'm in the dark!”  
“You... really wanna know 'bout that stuff? For real?” Angel asked, arching a brow as though he was being cautious of the sincerity behind it.   
“Why would you think I don't?”  
“Well, no offence, but ya've gotta habit o' fuckin' with people, Chuckles. An'... ya know, that stuff's not somethin' anyone wants to hear, right? Why would ya-”  
Angel got his clarity when Alastor's gentle laughter suddenly interrupted him. It turned much lower in pitch, his eyes half lidded as the air seemed to buzz around him in his inebriated state.  
“I asked you to. Did I not?”

Angel swallowed. The moment the sentence left the deer's mouth, he felt something... unfamiliar. A strange and uncharacteristic flush of heat bloomed in his face when Alastor talked like that. Though nothing could be seen through the dense white fur covering his cheeks, he was sure he'd be blushing were it not acting as a perfect screen for it to hide beneath. He nearly scowled at himself. Where the fuck had that come from...?  
No, forget that, he was getting sidetracked. The feminine demon cleared his throat with a brief cough and another sip of his cocktail, crossing his legs over the other way to try and collect himself. He wasn't exactly going to be able to tell any decent stories if he wasn't in a somewhat relaxed state, after all. His smile returned a moment later, looking towards the Radio Demon with a gesture of his hands.  
  
“Okay... uh, well, I guess that depends on what ya wanna hear then,” he started, his tone calm and cool. “I did a shit ton o' stuff for the business. Runnin' narco deals, smugglin', paintin' houses-”  
“Painting? It seems a bit beneath an organised syndicate of criminals to be doing redecorating work, doesn't it?” Alastor interjected in confusion as his wide grin remained static on his features. Angel had to let out a laugh at that, shaking his head to correct his counterpart.  
“It's an expression, ya ditz!” he exclaimed, batting his hand towards the deer. “Means takin' someone out in mob speak. Puttin' em six feet under. Ya know, _dead_. I had to do that one a lot.”  
“You've killed before,” the Radio Demon clarified, swallowing another mouthful of his drink with his static briefly flaring in volume. “Well, now that _is_ something delicious.”

Angel found himself pausing for a moment longer than he would have liked as he could feel the intense gaze of the deer demon burning into the side of his head. The drink was certainly making Alastor a bit loose-lipped when it came to things that intrigued him, so it wasn't too much of a shock to hear that murder was one such subject. So then why was the spider feeling perplexed and... flustered that he was being asked these questions in the first place?   
“W-What, ya think I can't dance, Radiohead?” Angel carried on, doing his best to act unperturbed. “I've taken out gangs down _here!_ Only thing stoppin' 'em from passin' on were the bullets not bein' from Upstairs.”

“I suppose looks can be deceiving, can't they?” Alastor chuckled, watching as Angel raised the glass of Bellini to his mouth with a satisfied exhale. “Tell me. Which one was your favourite?”  
“Favourite?” Angel asked, like he didn't understand the question.  
“Your _best_ kill! The one that thrilled you or sated you the most! Surely you must have one you remember fondly?”

That was a toughie. The request forced Angel to really go back far into his memory, so many decades ago. So much had happened since his mortal life that a lot of the specifics tended to blur together now, but Alastor's hunch was right. There was a particular one that he could recall with more clarity than the others, one that he took a lot of satisfaction in carrying out.  
“Hmm... I guess it musta been the turn o' the '40s. '42 maybe? Just remember it bein' cold as shit. Anyway, some jagoff by the name o' Slim Mick was givin' us a hard time. He'd been stealin' some o' the contraband, sellin' it on for himself rather than the mob. So I got asked to track him down an' make him stop.”  
“And how did you accomplish that?” Alastor hummed, leaning a little closer towards Angel with that half-lidded gaze of his. Just enough to make Angel noticeably flub his speaking for a moment when the hot-face feeling came back. Damn it, what was causing that?  
“W-Well, I, uh... I got one of his guys. Some mook I can't remember the name of...” he continued, clearing his throat and wishing his face would stop burning. “So I grabbed him, tied him to a chair an'... 'asked' him.”  
“Oh?”  
“For 3 hours.”

Alastor threw back his head in a genuine laugh at hearing such calculated brutality. The professionalism, the interrogation, the pre-meditated plan to hunt down the target! Something he could admire after his own exploits hunting prey back in his days as a regular human. Well, if serial killers could ever be classed as regular humans.  
“Delightful, my dear! I must say I admire your strategy to get your information!” he complimented, finishing his drink with a rather hearty gulp. The Radio Demon seemed a tad unsteady for a moment before the 'tuning in' sounds of his static seemed to zap him right back into concentration. “What did you do next?”  
“I cornered Mick at the docks at the edge o' town, right near the Bridge,” Angel explained, his smile now broader than ever as he found himself enjoying telling the story more than he thought he would. Especially at seeing Alastor approve. “An' he was givin' it all that, the 'I didn't mean it!', 'It was only for some extra cash!'. Pft! Guy wasn't laughin' when I put one right between the eyes with one shot. Stupid bastard...”

As Angel finished his tale with another drink from his nearly finished cocktail, Alastor's signature laugh burst out again, floating through the air like the transmission waves he was named after. The spider took a bit of pride in the reaction. To actually get this positive a response out of the infamous Radio Demon was something he felt could be boasted about later, if he did say so himself.  
But the star found something else drowning out his swelling ego-driven pride when something about that laugh sounded different. More real. The radio filter covering it had vanished as it came to a stop, remaining absent when just a single world left the deer demon's mouth.  
“Beautiful.”

Angel's eyes widened as they met Alastor's own. He resting his head against a glove still smiling pleasantly as his other rapped against the surface of his glass, like he was patiently waiting. But the way he was staring... was he trying to say that the kill itself was beautiful? Or...  
No. No, that was ridiculous. And even if it wasn't, it was surely the drink talking, right? Everyone became a little unlike themselves when they'd had too much, it was just the nature of the stuff. Even one of Hell's most destructive forces could fall victim to that.   
And yet the thought persisted in the back of Angel's head. Small, but nagging away, right at the very rear of his brain. He tried to push it down, regain some sort of control over the confused feelings swirling around inside him. There's no way that he was... damn it, why was his face so hot? Stupid, pompous... charming...  
 _'No, get a hold o' yerself, ya wimp! He's just askin' questions!'  
_ Had to focus.

“S-So... that's the, uh... one that sticks out the most!” Angel finished, shooting Alastor a smile that even he wasn't sure would be taken as genuine. Damn it, how were simple words getting to him this badly? Luckily, the Radio Demon didn't seem to notice or care about it too much, even though he briefly paused at noticing this odd fluster of his drinking partner. He shrugged subtly as he turned his head towards the bar's owner.  
“Another round, Husker,” Alastor ordered, his eyes momentarily resting on Angel's glass as if to make sure his company wasn't going to go dry either. “And for him as well.”  
“Geez, what did your last slave die of?” Husk grumbled, taking away the empty glasses of his two customers with a more audible grunt of annoyance than before.  
“Idle-itus!” the deer exclaimed without missing a beat. “And I'd hate for you to catch it as well, my friend!”  
“Asshole.”  
Angel giggled at the quip, the wit of it taking him off guard. His feminine pitch eventually settled down as their vessels were refilled with a repeat of their chosen vice.

As he had another good swallow, the spider had to think to himself just how... nice this whole thing was. It had been far too long since he'd been able to have a simple few drinks with someone he knew. Hadn't been able to thanks to Val's restrictions lately, not even with Cherri.   
Yeah, maybe that's why he was being so flushed. Just a bit of boozin' with someone he got on with. Alastor was certainly living up to his reputation in the Hotel as the charmer anyway, and making fine company because of it too. Emphasis on fine, admittedly...

“What about you?” Angel quickly asked after a period of silence, trying to shut that thought away. He folded his lower arms, with the upper pair seeming to mimic Alastor when he rested his cheek on a fist. “Maybe it's a dumb thing to ask. Ya've probably got so many under yer belt, ya can't remember when ya started.”  
“Oh, I remember them all perfectly! It's just difficult to pick out my personal choice,” Alastor beamed, like he was thrilled to be given a chance to speak of the topic himself. “After all, you're not wrong in guessing I was quite the prolific killer. I was never a part of any groups or organisations like you, but I assure you I had the body count to back it up!”  
“What did ya do?”  
“Murder, my dear, plain and simple. Or, hunting to be more precise! All it took was some fool to get lost in the wrong place and they were _mine_. One of the best grounds to do so was in the bayou where I grew up.”  
“A Southern boy, eh?” Angel clarified, tilting his head the other way with an amused look on his face. “Never woulda guessed from yer fancy pants talkin'.”  
“It's merely another tool in the arsenal, Angel. The bayou is one of the most perfect places for a killing,” Alastor crooned back to him with a thrum of radio noise. “So many spots ripe for ambush, for stalking and remaining unseen! Right up until the moment of the final strike... It took them years to even realise there was a link between all of the bodies, haha!”

Angel smirked as he listened to Alastor recall his past crimes with such passion and fondness. Any normal person would probably find such talk to be repulsive, but the star had been around the block enough to take it in his stride by now. He wouldn't be in Hell otherwise.   
In a way, it was kind of endearing to listen to, part of Angel wondering if the shared enthusiasm for their best bits was rubbing off on each other. He found himself giggling as he took another sip from his glass.  
“Well, well, looks like ya got more to ya than that hot voice o' yours~” he purred, unable to resist the urge to try and rile up his drinking partner just a little bit. But he found his sly grin dissipating when Alastor wasn't riled up. He instead seemed to be taking it in his stride with a widening of his mouth.  
“As do you! Outside of all of your... vices you indulge in.”

Angel blinked. Seemed like the 'uptight prick' part of the deer wasn't quite properly worn away yet, even with all the booze. But still... in Alastor's own way, it was a compliment. And it was one that was making the hot-face feeling come back and remain stuck there. At this point, it was hard for him to say whether or not it was because of the cocktails or Alastor himself.  
He had no frame of reference for it. That strange burning in his cheeks that seemed to flare up whenever Alastor looked his way, spoke with friendly camaraderie and approval. No one in Hell had ever spoken to him like that before. And what's more, the Radio Demon wanted to know more about _him._ Not his rates for a quickie in the alley or a piece to camera, not to do a 'job' against someone who owed money to the wrong people. But _him_.   
Maybe that was why it felt unusual. Not even Val had ever talked like this at the Studio...  
  
Yet Angel didn't find it a bad thing. On the contrary, the more he felt it, the more he enjoyed talking with the overlord conqueror more and more. It was a far cry from when he'd been swiftly turned down for offering his mouth all that time ago after the news disaster. That same mouth now grinned, gold tooth gleaming in the dim light of the bar.

“Then, like ya said. Tell me more...”

* * *

The night seemed to fly by after that. With the ice officially broken with tales of killings and chaos, Angel and Alastor had swiftly moved onto other topics, other items that they were surprised to find they shared some similar tastes in too. After all, with their respective deaths just over a decade apart, they weren't quite as distant from each other as their current demonic reputations implied.  
They shared a love for music, particularly the emergence of the jazz and swing sound from the 30s and 40s. They discussed food preferences, with Alastor's knowledge of culinary arts able to match Angel's pickiness for Italian dishes to ensure they were done well. They even educated each other on the events of history that separated the two of them. Obviously, things like World War II had been a bit of a surprise to hear about.  
As the drinks piled up and the clock ticked on, the Studio's darling and the Radio Demon could almost be mistaken for old friends, laughing at each other's stories and sharing opinions as though they'd done this for years. The abundance of booze had made it seem like their mouths would never stop running. Until...  
  
“Alright, 'lovebirds', I'm closin' up shop.”  
Alastor jolted upright from a slump when Husk's annoyed timbre hit his ears. As a sudden wave of dizziness started to make the room spin, he cleared his throat, looking up to the clock with a whirr of static highlighting his perplexed expression.   
2:30AM. It was already the next day? Had they really been talking that long tonight?  
“Aw, what?!” Angel piped up, looking rather disappointed as he slurred his words. “Not even last orders, kitty~?”  
“You two have been at this for _hours!_ ” Husk growled, grabbing their glasses to put them out of sight beneath the bar. “Unlike a lot of alcoholic lowlifes who don't want to stop, I need my sleep. I _like_ my sleep. And judgin' by how much you were neckin' down, you will too.”   
“Ha! Ya call _this_ a night o' boozin'? Oh, babe, ya should let me tell ya 'bout some o' the Studio parties...”  
“I will _pay_ you to never mention the details to me.”

Satisfied that he'd appropriately gotten a rise out of their bartender, Angel stretched his multiple arms skyward with a graceful arch and a brief 'crack' of his spine. He rose to his feet, finding himself a tad unsteady as the room tilted around him from the drink, though he quickly recovered. Wasn't the first time he'd been relatively smashed, after all, but maybe Husk had a point.   
As he brushed himself down and walked away from the bar, the star heard Alastor do much the same, the Radio Demon slinging his coat over his shoulder as a rising frequency in the radio noise complimented his own brief stumble into a standing posture. He shot Angel a flex of his permanent grin with a weak chuckle, coming to the spider's side with a lazy gaze as he suddenly reached a hand upwards to rest on the taller demon's shoulder.

“I must say, you have surprised me tonight, Angel!” Alastor boasted, his typical formal manner of talking buried under layers of drunken slurs and audience laugh tracks. “Your tales, your... less than legal endeavours... oh, marvellous!”  
“Well, ya ain't so bad yerself, Al!” Angel hummed, stretching out two of his arms on his opposite side to try and stay balanced. “Certainly gotta remember yer technique on skinnin' someday...”  
“Oh, no, my dear! _You're_ the star of the night!” the Radio Demon laughed, his eyes narrowing with a tipsy chuckle as his hand tightened its grip. “You're... you're a- have I ever told you you're a _fascinating_ creature? I've never met another sinner like you!”

Angel blinked, the hidden blush back with a vengeance as he felt Alastor's hand hold on hard. The logical part of him was yelling that this was just drunken talk between two people who could now be considered friends with each other. But the other part... it was yelling much louder there was more to it.  
The arachnid wanted to take hold of Alastor's hand, his inhibitions low enough for it as they were without alcohol being involved. But despite that urge, Angel found that he couldn't move, only able to muster up a stammering reply as that unfamiliar attraction to the deer continued to rise from within his gut. It was possible, wasn't it? What if Alastor wasn't just saying these things because he was drunk...?  
“Y-You, uh... you really think so, huh...?”  
“Absolutely, darling!” Alastor yelled, feedback briefly piercing the air as he swayed a little on the spot and felt his body turn limp. He clearly hadn't been this intoxicated in a while. “You've been wonderful to be with tonight...”

“Yeah, this has been... really nice...”   
  
Angel went quiet, the only noise being Husk cleaning up the bar behind the pair of them. Talking suddenly seemed a bit harder than normal in this silence, and that was saying something for a motor mouth like him. Still, he reasoned this was probably the end of their little session.  
“Well, uh... I guess we should hit the hay, huh?”  
“Come now, my dear, we still have time for more!” Alastor proclaimed with a woozy gesture of his arms, causing Angel to flinch a little in surprise at the tipsy shout. “You can't expect me to retire for the night without hearing the thrilling conclusion of your exploits?”  
“But, the bar-”  
“A bar is but _one_ place to tell a tale!” the Radio Demon continued, a sample of audience applause punctuating his speech. “Where the stage is doesn't matter, only the quality of the performance. You're not obliged to, of course, but... would you indulge me in this last request tonight?”

Angel felt his throat running dry again. He didn't know exactly what Alastor was getting at, but those strange feelings from before were now so strong that he wasn't sure whether to be excited or nervous about them. It had all been building inside him throughout their conversation, and Alastor's 'proposal' had cemented it for real in his head.  
But there was _no way_ that he was legitimately asking the star to... well, not _that_ , it would be insane to consider given Alastor's initial reaction to such things. But to at least come back to see him in a private space? Had the Radio Demon ever done that to anyone in the Hotel? Anyone in general?   
  
Despite the uncertainty, Angel answered far too quickly for it to be considered natural  
“Yeah, sure!” he blurted out, clearing his throat just as fast and briefly touching his pink-tinged claw tips to his face.   
It was like he was running a fever. What the hell was this? No, no, this was crazy. This absolutely wasn't him, he was fucking _Angel Dust_ for crying out loud! He wasn't some stupid schoolgirl with a...

Crush. Oh, _shit_.

****“Excellent!” said Alastor, snapping Angel out of his momentary shock at realising that last word when he suddenly retracted his hand to grab one of the spider's own. “Right this way!”  
Angel yelped as he was tugged off his feet by the sudden hold, nearly falling over himself as the Radio Demon's laughter echoed down the hall before them. As the pair of demons turned a corner and eventually disappeared out of sight, Husk was left staring after them as he cleaned the inside of a glass with a cloth.   
  
He sighed rather loudly with a shake of his head. This was going to end in tears.


	2. Crushed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel learns the hard way why they call it a crush after a careless mistake threatens to ruin the night. But a knock at the door may mean that all isn't lost. Maybe there was something to this after all.

It was only a short walk on the ground floor of the Hotel, just past a corridor of rooms that were still mostly empty. At this time in the early morning, there'd be no one awake even if they were occupied, so the sounds of Alastor's music and his own slurred humming to the notes he conjured could be broadcast without a problem.  
The two of them eventually came to a halt at the end of a particular hall, the only door visible being rather large and ornate in comparison to the rest. It was made of dark oak, patterns of marks and charms etched into the wood that Angel recognised from seeing Alastor's powers. He didn't think that the Radio Demon had a normal room of his own here, so this was most likely his office.  
With a snap of red claws, the door opened at Alastor's whim and the deer beckoned his counterpart inside as the lights inside appeared to turn on by themselves. The two stepped past the threshold, the door gently closing by itself and sealing them away from the rest of the Hotel with a gentle click.

“And here we are!” Alastor announced, gesturing to the room as he threw his coat onto one of the chairs nearby. “Do make yourself at home.”  
The office itself was rather spacious, almost like a time capsule right out of the 1920's. The walls were furnished with a dark red wallpaper, the same symbols drawn in repeating waves along curved lines of bright crimson. The lights looked fashioned after old gas lamps, bulbs burning through the curved glass with a orange-hued glow.  
The furnishings themselves also looked period appropriate. A large desk made of the same wood at the door was the main feature, a large chair behind it where Alastor probably spent most of his time working, though Angel couldn't really guess what kind of work he did there. A large couch to relax on was by the wall to the right and there was even a cabinet with an old radio on top too. Appropriate.  
To Angel's surprise, there was an abundance of plant life in the Radio Demon's space, large pots of Yucca and smaller containers of flowering stems dotted around the place to contrast the formal atmosphere of the rest of the room. Who could have guessed that Alastor would have such things to care for given where his infamy had sprung from?

“Nice digs...” murmured Angel, his eyes wandering over all the office just to give him something to focus on. He needed it right now. He had folded his upper arms underneath his chest in a usual cool display, but his lower hands were fidgeting against each other like he was trying to wring the nerves out. Something Alastor noticed with an arch of his brow.  
“No need to be apprehensive, my dear!” he assured, a brief break in his static playing out the distinct chords of an old Louis Prima before fading back into noise. He leaned against his desk, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt to cool down a little. “If I had any ill intent, you would have known about it by now, haha! Could I interest you in another drink?”  
  
Angel felt his chest tighten at the words. And at that unbuttoning. _Fuck._ That meant Alastor _did_ have an intent of some sort, didn't it? And with him being so kind and attentive, listening to everything with a genuine interest and not just because he felt it polite, then if he was lucky, very _very_ lucky...  
“U-Uh, I'm good, thanks...” the spider replied, braving a fleeting smile as he took a step forwards. Even despite his head swimming from the booze and his stomach being a whirl of butterflies, he had to suppress it.  
  
“Are you alright, Angel?” Alastor suddenly asked, startling the adult star from his daydream.  
“Yeah! Yeah, sorry! It's just... ya know,” he flubbed, unfolding his top arms to join in with the fidgeting. “Look, ya didn't really have to, like... put up with that, yeah? Like, makin' small talk with me an'... all that past shit an' stuff... no one's ever really interested in hearin' that out, so...”  
“Don't be silly, darling,” the Radio Demon answered, his voice turning into that low and smooth timbre that sent shivers down his counterpart's spine. “I asked you to tell me in the first place, and I thank you for doing so. I have greatly enjoyed our time together.”  
“Yeah... yeah, right. Me too.”  
  
The sentence tapered off as Alastor bowed his head with another smirk. The room descended into near silence, only the odd flicker of tuning noise coming from the Radio Demon when he shifted his stance in his tipsy state. Angel himself exhaled rather loudly as he let his arms fall down to his sides again. He had to try and keep it together, to make sure he was absolutely sure of this.  
“I guess I just wanna say... thanks,” he finally spoke, taking a few steps forward towards Alastor until he came to a stop in front of the other demon. He brushed stay locks of white hair out of his face, light and dark eyes getting lost the deep crimson of the deer's own. He didn't realise how pretty they were until he was up close.  
“Think nothing of it, my friend,” Alastor assured him, smile flexing wider as he stared at an incline towards the taller Angel. He tilted his head ever so gently, curious as to what the arachnid was trying to get at with his uncharacteristic... shyness? Since when did someone as flamboyant as the most famous adult actor in Hell ever get shy?

Angel was too far invested in what he wanted to do now to realise. The fact Alastor called him a 'friend' in those words should have been a big enough clue that something was wrong. The fact that he was being given curious looks that replaced the affectionate ones he saw at the bar should been another. But he didn't see them, he didn't want to. He was too close to seeing whether or not his thoughts were true to stop.  
 _'Shit... okay, I just need to... damn it, is this how yer supposed to do this stuff...?'_  
The spider was almost holding his breath as he took one final step forward. Their chests were nearly touching now. Alastor blinked once, the tilt in his head gone as his face remained unchanging. Even his radio noise seemed to have attenuated itself down like he was concentrating. Now seemed as good a time as any.  
 _'Oh, shit... oh, shit, okay, keep it together...'  
_ Angel closed his eyes and began to lean his body forward at the waist. His left hand raised from his side, reaching towards Alastor's cheek and moving ever closer as he did so. He pursed his lips, the smell of the cognac heavy in the air as he came within mere centimetres of meeting the Radio Demon's own...  
A hand grabbed his wrist.

“Angel... what are you doing?”  
Angel's eyes flew open with a gasp. Alastor was staring at him, clutching at the limb nearly touching his face with a fierce grip of his clawed glove. Even though his smile had not diminished one bit, his brow had lowered, deep red eyes narrowing as though the gesture had not just been turned down. But that it almost seemed to have offended him.  
Fuck.  
“I... I was...”  
Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.  
“...I thought that-”  
Oh, God fucking _damn_ it.  
  
The spider yanked his arm back from Alastor, taking a step away from him. The Radio Demon's eyes remained glued to him, like he was waiting for an explanation as to what he had just tried to do, and Angel's previous nerves were rapidly turning into a wave of embarrassment and shame that he'd done something wrong. He brought his hands towards himself as though the touch would somehow still his heart thumping against his ribs _._  
“I... I'm sorry, I just...!” he tried to start again, but the words dissolved before he could get the rest of them out. He almost didn't want to look Alastor in the eye, feeling the burning stare of the infamous demon piercing into him like a blade. A shiver ran down his back, taking another step away from his counterpart when a sound suddenly got his attention. And it felt like he'd just been lanced in the chest when he realised what it was.

It was a laugh. _Alastor's_ laugh. Angel's eyes widened in shock as he watched the other demon throw his head back to do so, loud and proud as it always was. The noise was echoing around the room as though it was coming from the walls themselves, reverberating and enhanced with a low rumble like the shadows he controlled were joining in. The shame within Angel spiked, his mouth falling open as the Radio Demon finally settled down enough to talk.  
“Come on now, Angel, did you really think I wanted you here for _that_? I made it very clear I wanted to hear your stories, nothing more! Definitely not to be subjected to your various... _talents_ ,” Alastor explained, shifting his weight onto his other foot with a flurry of static. The last word sounded like he was repulsed by the idea.   
“B-But... you said...”  
“I said you were fascinating, didn't I? And I stand by that!” the deer explained with another moment of drunken noise. “But what in the nine circles made you think I wanted you in any other way? Haha! _Very_ foolish of you to assume, don't you think?”  
  
As Alastor brushed a hand through his messy locks, Angel inhaled sharply through his now clenched teeth and spun around on the spot. He couldn't bare to look at the Radio Demon any more. The alcohol had removed any of the filters that would usually cover up such barbs in his speech, so every single one that reached the star hurt. And it really hurt.  
Because Alastor was _right_. He could try to argue, point out how affectionate the other had been back at the bar, but Alastor was still ultimately right. He'd been so fixated on his miniature fantasy that he simply hadn't _thought_. How could he have been so God damn stupid? Sharing a drink with someone once and then that somehow being enough to warrant that sort of advance?   
What was he thinking? Is that really all it really took now? Just being asked basic questions about banal crap to make him think Alastor actually wanted more than just someone to talk to...?   
It wasn't just sad. It was desperate. Utterly _pathetic_.  
  
Angel's claws curled into fists as all four now came down to the spider's sides, his lithe form trembling as his chest started to ache something fierce. He exhaled with an obvious shake to the noise, something that seemed to alert Alastor as the deer tilted his head. He certainly hadn't been expecting this sort of reaction, his wide grin briefly twitching at the edges. He couldn't be _that_ upset, could he?  
“Now, don't be like that, my friend! You know my interest in what you do down _here_ is near non-existent, we might as well be living on different planets! Surely, you didn't think I would ever want to be with-”  
Alastor stopped in his tracks when Angel finally turned around, freezing like his form's namesake in headlights. The arachnid star looked completely dejected, his eyes already wet with the beginnings of tears. Not outright crying, but easily on the verge and threatening to do so if he was pushed hard enough. His response was barely above a whisper.  
“...someone like me. Right?”

Alastor's grin substantially lessened hearing that. Though it still remained upon his pale features, an unfamiliar feeling was building inside him. He couldn't think of a name for it, so foreign to his body as it was. But what he did know was that the drink had made him far more blunt with his thoughts than he was normally. And it was also obvious that what he had just said had not been taken very well.   
But this reaction was absurd. He was just being honest with what he thought, that was all! Surely Angel hadn't _really_ been expecting to form anything more with him than a civil friendship this evening? There couldn't be any more to it, not just from a few stories and shared drinks. Right...?  
But then something else happened that caused Alastor's face to contort even further into confusion. Another chuckle made itself known to his ears, but it wasn't the Radio Demon that was making the sound this time.   
  
It was _Angel_. He was holding onto his body with all four of his arms, his gentle giggling getting louder and louder until he was full-on belly laughing, even as the odd tear was now starting to roll over his cheeks. What else could he do? To Angel, this whole mess was worthy of that reaction.   
What he'd just tried to do really _was_ that laughable, that worthy of ridicule and mockery. The idea that Alastor of all people could actually love him... fucking bonkers! And the laugh carried on, uncomfortably so, enough to make Alastor sense that unfamiliar emotion growing ever bigger. The feeling that maybe he'd gone too far.  
  
“That's not what I-”  
“ _O' course it fuckin' was!_ ” Angel suddenly screamed, his laugh vanishing just as quickly as it had started. His face had twisted into utter fury, an accusing hand jabbing a finger towards Alastor as any hint of inebriation was gone. “An' why _wouldn't_ ya mean it?! You're the big, bad Radio Demon, ya ain't got time for that shit! Ya said it yerself! It's completely _moronic_ that ya'd ever want to get with me, ain't it?! Ya hate what I do, what I _am!_ _Right?!_ ”   
“Angel, calm down, that's not...” Alastor tried to protest, actually backing up a step on unsteady legs as Angel continued to jab at him. He genuinely hadn't meant to cause this amount of upset, but the star was having none of it.  
“Save it, _asshole!_ Just go ahead an' say what ya _really_ think! None o' this stupid bullshit about how you think I'm a darlin' or fascinatin', I ain't even a _drinkin' buddy_ to ya! I'm just a _whore_ who's only good for givin' ya stories o' killin' people to get yer rocks off to!”  
  
Angel's huffed to try and get air back in his lungs, his accusing hand coming down to his side as his eyes fell to the floor. His voice could be heard noticeably wavering now, the target of his anger shifting away from Alastor as his ramble continued.  
“That's all anybody ever sees... Not someone, but some _thing,_ some sap they can use for whatever they want! They can slide a few Benjamins over an' get their dick sucked or their fill o' me sittin' in their lap like a toy! Or they can offer me a place to stay by sayin' it's for my own good but then makin' me a poster boy for some shitty pet project! Or they can be like _you_ and... fuck, why was I dumb enough to think _you'd_ be any different?!”  
  
The spider's faux bust rose and fell like he was hyperventilating, contrasting the rest of his body feeling limp when his rage lost strength. He seemed to briefly lose control of his bottled up shame when the anger subsided enough for a loud sob to escape him.   
He clasped a hand to his mouth, attempted to swallow it down as his pride refused to let himself be seen in such a way. But even trying _that_ was embarrassing now he'd let the facade crumble away this drastically.   
  
Alastor's grin had lessened even more so at hearing those last words, the severity of what he'd said now becoming crystal clear to him despite his wooziness from the night's drink. Had Angel really taken their conversation to mean something more...?   
In any other instance, he would be relishing this. He _should_ be relishing this. He should have been watching with amusement and joy at seeing a demon of the Hotel fail and stumble into the pit of failure that he'd wanted to see in the first place. But he didn't with Angel. All he felt at that moment was... no, it couldn't be regret?   
Why should he regret being honest...?  
  
Yet despite his inner thoughts to the contrary, Alastor's body reacted before his brain had time to catch up. He slightly raised an arm like he was about to reach out towards the upset arachnid, trying to save this new bond with someone who he had actually genuinely enjoyed being with tonight. Unfortunately, being considerate was not his strong suit. Not at all.  
“But I thought you were... happy with-”  
“What? Bein' a porn star? An overlord's _slut_?! Well, 'course ya'd say that, no _shit!_ ” Angel shouted again, voice almost going hoarse from how loud he was being. He didn't care. “Yeah, I like havin' sex! Sometimes, it's even fun when I get paid for it too! But that don't mean it's all I do, or it's all I want! Ya think I'm out hookin' 'cause I _wanna_ just sleep around? _Fuck_ , I wasn't tryin' to bone ya, shithead! I was tryin' do somethin' _more_ than just be another lay for some guy I like...”

Alastor blinked as Angel's loud words faltered, fresh tears spilling from made up eyes. That was an admission it _had_ been taken that way. He was being serious. Alastor could see it in the way the other demon was looking at him when his feminine voice slipped into silence. And he had just destroyed that with his callous and uncaring words.  
The Studio's starlet sighed, turning away from the deer demon with a noticeable slump to his shoulders. The cat was out of the bag now, but it wasn't like it mattered. He'd been rejected. Again. He coiled his arms around himself as though he'd suddenly gotten very cold and the sweater wasn't enough to keep it at bay.  
“...you were the first guy who asked about any o' that shit 'bout my past,” Angel explained, some part of him feeling like he needed to say why he did any of this. “The boss never did when he picked me up the first time, an' he ain't asked since. But ya weren't pullin' tricks, not just wantin' the goods... you were nice to me and ya _meant_ it. Like ya wanted to know about it because... ya wanted to know about _me_. So I thought that... maybe if ya wanted that, ya might want...”  
  
He couldn't finish the thought. There was no point. Alastor had made it very clear that he was not interested in being anything more than friends at most. The very notion they could be more than that together had been dismissed outright, just from an attempted kiss. Angel cringed thinking back at that. How could he have been so thoughtless?  
“Angel...” Alastor started, his brow creasing into uncommon unease even as his grin remained faint on his lips.  
“Forget it,” Angel murmured, starting to walk towards the door with a loud sniff and a rub of his eyes. “Just fuckin' _forget_ it. Sorry for ruinin' yer night.”  
Alastor inhaled to speak, but couldn't think really of what to say. And that was so rare for him, he wasn't sure it was something he had ever been capable of until now. Even if he had some assuring words to say, all he'd be doing to Angel would be confirming his doubts that the attraction wasn't really mutual. Talking about feelings was even less of a strong point for him than being considerate was.

The door opened and closed before the Radio Demon could think on it further. Angel was gone. And Alastor was left alone in the quiet of his office to contemplate what had just occurred. His eyes narrowed in a scowl at himself, at the confusing ideas swirling around his head, his smile the faintest it had been in a long time.   
Even if he had been true to his thoughts on the matter, honest about his feelings when it came to even considering a proper relationship with _anyone_ , yet alone someone like Angel... he should have handled that better. He hadn't been lying when he had told the other demon that he had had a lot of fun spending the night with him, trading their stories and interests. To then suddenly spoil that with such insensitivity felt... wrong.  
  
Alastor should have been used to it by now, being on his own. With his infamy as the Radio Demon during his conquests of Hell, seeing other demons cower or flee at the mere sight of him had become commonplace. But contrary to what everyone thought, he was not heartless. Being subjected to that isolation for so long had made any genuine friendships he had mean a great deal to him.   
Husk and Niffty were two he considered such true companions, closer to his heart than he would ever let on. Charlie was much the same way after months of running this place together. Even Vaggie hadn't been as cold as time had gone on.   
And he had been hoping to add Angel to that small group tonight when he realised there was more to the adult actor than he would have ever guessed. But he was not good talking about and considering his own emotions, yet alone anyone else's. He'd ruined it.   
  
With anyone else, Alastor wouldn't let such things bother him. He'd simply opt to let another demon suffer with those feelings, that crushing feeling of rejection and despair that he had seen countless times over the decades he had spent down here. But, Angel... Angel deserved better than that after being misled by drunken affections colouring his intentions.  
Maybe it was the alcohol talking. Maybe it was just because he had never been confronted with someone admitting such feelings for him so obviously before now. But that sensation of regret remained no matter how he tried to rationalise it away or think of it as somehow not being his fault. So Alastor summoned his cane, gripping it firmly for support against his impaired balance as he walked towards the door.   
  
He just needed to remember where Angel's room was.

* * *

Angel slammed the door to his room behind him, boots stomping across the floor to his bed as he practically threw himself onto it. He didn't care if it looked stupid or ripe to make fun of, not when he was alone and in his own space away from prying eyes. All he needed right now was one of his biggest pillows, hands clasping around a large pink one as he buried his face into it.  
He inhaled as deeply as he could manage before he let loose with a muffled scream of frustration into the dense material. His other two claws clutched at his blankets hard enough to nearly tear holes in them, eventually curling into fists and slamming down in a flurry of angry punches. Yet his anger was misplaced, and it ultimately did nothing to quell the awful sensations clinging to his heart like a vice.  
He'd made an utter fool of himself. In front of Alastor, in front of Husk too. Hell, maybe even the entire Hotel thanks to how loud his childish tirade had been in that office. As his voice faded away, the spider inhaled again, still face down in his pillow as something forbidden briefly broke free from his body.  
He felt himself begin to cry.  
  
Angel outright refused to ever let anyone see him like this. It was a lesson he'd learned the hard way both in life and death. Whenever he had shown weakness in front of his father, whenever he had cowered in fear from Valentino's wrath, Angel had vowed that he could and _would_ never let anyone see him weep like this in the aftermath.   
_'Shut up, shut up, shut UP! Fuckin' weak little bitch, stop cryin'!'_  
He choked on containing the sobs that needed to escape, back heaving in an effort to swallow his sadness down where it could never get out. But it was really hard. Tonight had almost become too much, the final straw in confirming a fear that he had held longer than he would ever admit to anyone. That he would never get what he had sought in life and what he thought he maybe had a chance for in Hell.  
That he could find genuine love.  
  
Angel screwed his eyes shut as his resolve broke and tears stained his bed. He could hear them. The voices of _them_ yelling at him if he lingered too hard on the thought. The thick emotional wall he'd built up over decades of being 'behaved' was starting to fracture like a broken dam and, to his despair and embarrassment, a new voice had now joined the entourage.  
Alastor's voice.  
  
 _“Quit yer fuckin' whinin', boy! We got a_ _ **job**_ _to do!”  
“_ _ **WHAT**_ _... have I told you?!”  
“Did you really think I wanted you here for __**that**_ _?”  
“Shut your mouth, you filthy queer! I didn't raise you to be a God damn __**faggot**_ _,_ _did I?!”  
“You're gonna have a __**long**_ _night, sugar.”  
“You know my interest in what you do down here is near __non-existent,_ _we might as well be living on different planets!”_

Angel finally raised his head off the pillow, trying to control his brain running rampant as his wet mascara left dark stains in the fabric. He weakly pushed his aching body up from his sprawled position, clutching the ruined cushion close to his chest while he sat up and hugged his legs to his body with his lower arms.  
As he struggled to get back into a regular rhythm of breathing, his pitiful sniffles only kept reminding him of how he had been back top side. Back when Dad had first found out about his... preferences. It was like history was repeating itself, back from when he hid himself in his room after the family tried to cast him out for being that different.  
And tonight, in thinking he could prove them all wrong and find someone that would truly like him in return, Angel had only proved them _right_. He'd been so desperate for that fantasy that he'd fallen for _Alastor_ of all people, a demon who was renowned for slaughtering _overlords_ , all because he made conversation at a freaking bar. He would've laughed again if it didn't make him feel like such a moron.  
  
A sense of numbness began to creep through the spider's body, fatigue starting to claim him. He was finding it hard to focus after his tantrum had sapped his energy so thoroughly, but could be sure of at least one thing despite that.   
He wasn't Angel Dust right now. Angel was a sassy, confident, sexually proud and active star whose work was adored across all of Hell. But he was gone, not a single trace of him left behind as the clock passed 3AM. In his place was someone else.   
_Anthony_. It was a name that he had cast off and hated, an identity he had never wanted to acknowledge or become ever again. But he couldn't be anything else right now. Admitting that to himself made him feel sick, but no matter what he had done in the years since, here he was again. The same lonely young man who just wanted someone to care about him from nearly eight decades ago.

At that moment, a sound caused Angel to snap out of his miserable daze, letting out another sniff as he rubbed his still leaking eyes onto the pillow he was holding. A quiet snorting, a rustling of the blankets beneath the arch of his legs, a press of something slightly wet into one of his thighs.  
Angel tilted his head to see Fat Nuggets looking up at him from below. The piglet had managed to hop up onto the bed as his owner had been lost in the mess of his thoughts, his little snout sniffing at the spider intently as if he knew that something was wrong.  
That sweet little pig was needed more than anything in all of Hell right now, a gentle smile forcing itself across Angel's pained expression as he used his lower hands to scoop his special dear up and rest him against the pillow he now had in his lap.  
  
“Hey, Nuggs...” he hummed quietly, sniffing loudly to try and shoo away his tears. The rule of not letting anyone see him cry applied to Fat Nuggets too. “How are ya, baby...?”  
Fat Nuggets snorted again, stomping his little feet into the pillow to test its softness as he settled into it with a wiggle of his chubby body. He raised his head to stare at his owner, patiently waiting as the star rubbed his smeared make-up with a forced laugh. He was trying to explain himself to a damn pig, for God's sake.  
“I-I'm okay... Daddy was just a bit of a loser tonight...” Angel cooed, rubbing around the base of his pet's ears and conjuring a few pleased little grunts from the small thing. He cuddled Fat Nuggets close to his chest, the little animal seeming to appreciate another 'pillow' to rest against when he was pulled to the fluff spilling out of the sweater.  
Angel fell silent again, his smile deteriorating away as he continued to stroke Fat Nuggets down to the very tip of his curly tail. He sighed, muffling a yawn behind a palm. Maybe it would be better to sleep and forget tonight ever happened. Even if he wasn't looking forward to facing Alastor when tomorrow finally came...  
  
There was a knock at the door.

The rhythm was strict, but the actual contact against the wood felt restrained and soft, enough to rule a few possible suspects out. Given what had just happened and her penchant for always sticking her nose in to any... 'altercations' at the hotel, it was enough for him conclude that it was probably Charlie.  
Angel's face creased into a fierce scowl, cuddling Fat Nuggets even tighter as he sank even further down onto his back. He knew the kid meant well, but he really couldn't stomach her sickening positivity right now. Not when there was so very little to be positive over after this colossal fuck up of an evening.  
“Go away...” he said firmly, the only sound to accompany it being Fat Nuggets' snort in trying to work out what his owner was talking to. The visitor didn't respond with their voice, instead waiting for a few seconds before they knocked the same pattern. Angel growled, his eyes narrowing further as he strained his aching throat to yell.  
“ _Fuck off!!_ ”  
  
The door handle suddenly turned and unlocked itself regardless, the door starting to creak open slowly from the other side. Angel cursed under his breath, having forgotten to lock the thing when he had stormed into the room. He chose to turn away, focusing on his pet instead of the unwanted guest as he braced himself for the barrage of vapid advice, that sickening sing-song voice trying to _lie_ and say everything was going to be-  
“Angel? May I come in?”  
The arachnid froze when he realised that the voice wasn't Charlie. He gradually looked towards the threshold of his space, confronted with the sight of red, black and the sounds of distortion and tuning frequencies.

Well, this was great. Bad enough that Alastor had outright shot him down, but now he had to show up to see the results of his work? Because of course he would. Angel refused to look at him, instead focusing on pink blankets and Fat Nuggets as the Radio Demon stepped inside. As much as he wanted to go back to screaming and shouting, he didn't have the energy to do it again. All he could manage was a croak.  
“I told ya to-”  
“I will not take too much of your time,” Alastor replied matter-of-factly, walking at a slow pace towards the bedside with taps of his cane.  
“Shove it an' get out!” Angel spat, his face contorting into a fierce glare as he still refused to look at the deer. His hug around his pillow and pet didn't relax at all. “I've been real stupid tonight, but I ain't _that_ stupid. Yer here to lord it over me. Get yer fix of watchin' some fuckin' failure feel sorry for himself, right? Piss off. I don't need it.”  
Alastor stopped at Angel's bed when he gave his reply.  
“No, I am not here for that.”  
“Then what _do_ ya want?”  
The Radio Demon sighed gently, his own gaze falling away from the spider before he took in a breath. He hoped this would work because he didn't want to start of a habit saying this.  
“I came to apologise.”

Angel snapped out of his sulk with a blink. Apologise? _Alastor?_ There's no way he'd heard that right, certain that he must be imagining things in his compromised position. Yet he found himself finally looking to the deer at his bedside when he heard it, appearing more confused than upset even despite the streaked make-up in his fur.  
Alastor's smile was still there but in the drastically diminished state from before, his usually stoic expression and mannerisms starting to give way to something else with the alcohol still running strong in his system. He could almost pass for looking genuinely regretful, gesturing to the edge of the bed.  
“May I?”  
The arachnid glanced between the hand and the spot on the mattress. He didn't answer, returning his attention to the little piglet now comfortably napping on the pillow with soft little snorts. Alastor took it as acceptance and perched himself delicately on the edge of the pink sheets, twisting on the spot to better focus on his counterpart.  
  
“Angel,” the deer began, his radio noises slipping in and out of focus as he seemed to have difficulty conjuring what he wanted to say. Or because he was drunk. “With what I said in my office, I... did not intend to upset you so. It is my fault for giving you a false impression of my intentions and not being considerate of your own feelings on such things. I am sorry.”  
“Pft...” Angel tutted back, his scowl remaining persistent as he felt another well of emotion building in his throat. He didn't buy it. The words were just confirming that he was in the wrong for trying to make that kiss happen in the first place. Alastor tilted his head, leaning in a little closer as if expecting something more from the star.  
“Sure ya are...” Angel finally said, his tone sounding exhausted and drained as the negative effects of drinking were starting to kick in. “If that were true, then why do any o' that nice stuff with me? Why would ya say all o' those things an' ask 'bout me if ya didn't mean anythin' by it...?”  
  
Alastor's subdued grin twitched. This was going to be even harder than admitting he was at fault for causing the situation in the first place. The Radio Demon's other hand gripped harder on his cane as a long moment of quiet descended. Angel was almost certain he didn't have an answer to give until the distinct timbre of the radio host appeared. Unfiltered. Sincere.  
“Because I _did_ mean what I said. I enjoyed spending tonight with you. And I really do think you are fascinating.”  
Angel's mouth fell open a tad, returning his light and dark eyes to a resting place on Alastor. The deer's brow had creased downwards, appearing to be lost in the thought of what he was trying to explain and not doing so well at thinking it up. He closed his eyes, taking a big inhale and exhale to steady himself and keep his head clear of the dizziness that kept whirling around his skull.  
  
“I know this is rather awkward. But topics such as this are definitely not my forte...” Alastor began to explain. “The point is this. I just have my peculiarities being on good terms with someone. That is all I was trying to say and I admit I failed at it.”  
“Hmph...” Angel interrupted with a huff, still seeming reluctant to accept the explanation as genuine. “Found it easy enough at the bar...”  
“But that's because talking as we did _was_ wonderful!” the other demon insisted. “Not just in _what_ we spoke of, but your humour, your chaotic attitude to your crimes, your skill! I...” He paused. “I didn't realise you had those qualities. I like that in you a great deal, Angel.”

The arachnid's body relaxed some hearing that, conflicting emotions starting to battle within. Another sense of rising heat was gracing his cheeks while his heart was still aching from how brutally to-the-point Alastor had been before. How the hell could one demon cause so much turmoil in him? He was like a teenager with a... crush.   
There was that word again. At least he knew why it was called that now.   
Angel kept a firm hold of the pillow Fat Nuggets was laid on with his lower limbs, but his upper ones wrapped around himself as if to fight off the invisible cold that had seized him before. Inadvertently pushing his 'bust' up, it seemed a fitting side effect given what he said next.  
“...but ya still hate what I do. What I _am_ ,” he argued weakly, sniffling again. “Ya made that loud 'n' clear. No time for some stupid whore who-”

Before he had a chance to finish, Angel's self-deprecation was stopped in its tracks. A black shape had suddenly pressed against his lips, shutting him up immediately as his mismatched irises crossed in to focus on it. It was some sort of tendril, extending from an orange portal that had manifested from the thin air above his head. It was the same power he'd seen against Pentious.   
Satisfied that he'd shut that down efficiently, Alastor's hand twitched to dismiss the apparition as he waggled a finger to warn the star not to speak in such a way about himself again. His smile had returned, yellow fangs exposed in the hopes that being more positive would lift the other demon's spirits.  
“If I really hated you so, would I be here wanting to make sure you are alright?” the deer hummed, leaning his head to the side as the spider stared at him with the same dumbfounded expression that he'd had at the bar. Alastor would be lying if he said he didn't find that... 'entertaining' in a way.   
  
Angel sniffed again, using the back of a hand to rub at his eyes and keep himself as collected as he could muster despite feeling so tired. The warm feelings in his face at least proved that the night hadn't been a _complete_ disaster, at least not when it came to what actually happened. Emotionally though? Utterly wiped out at this point.  
So where did this leave them? Yes, Alastor had apologised for his casually insulting tone and had assured the adult actor that he wasn't hated as he had feared he would be, but... the deer still didn't feel the same way that he did. That hadn't been addressed or corrected throughout this second meeting. Even if not a total failure, it was still a failure.  
Now Angel could see why Alastor found things like this so difficult to talk about. Feelings were _really_ fucking confusing. And they were even made more so when a movement out of the corner of his vision suddenly got his attention.  
  
Alastor extended out the hand he'd just used, half way towards making contact with Angel's body when it had stopped. The Radio Demon's grin was faltering at the edges, the static noise of his feedback whipping up in volume as the fingers twitched. Like he was... unsure of what he was doing. Whether he should be doing anything at all.   
But he felt he had to do this, to prove he was genuine. Either that or he was too inebriated to care. He quickly adjusted himself with an exclamation of old music and finally finished his intended action. Rubbing a palm through the thick mane of white hair atop the arachnid's head.  
“Dry those tears, _mon cher,_ ” the deer crooned, his tone that same low frequency that had enamoured his partner in the first place. “They don't suit you.”  
  
Angel's eyes widened as he stared into space the moment Alastor's palm touched him. _Alastor_ had touched him. Of his own _free will_. What the hell...? He felt a twinge run down his back, cheeks burning just as fiercely as they had a few hours ago in the lobby, even after the Radio Demon's fingers slipped away from his locks. Either he was dreaming or Hell must've been starting to freeze over at this point.  
“What did ya just call me...?” he murmured, a sound sample of a brief audience laugh floating in the air around the other demon's horns.  
“You're not the only one who speaks another dialect, you know,” Alastor grinned, adjusting the collar of his unbuttoned shirt before pulling himself up onto his feet with his cane. He seemed more relaxed himself now he'd managed to navigate the infamous minefield that was emotions.

However, this was getting a little beyond his ability at this hour. Especially so with the alcohol running rampant on his senses.

“But, we should speak another time. The hour is unfortunately late. I believe we should both consider resting some, yes?”  
“Uh... yeah, prob'ly...” Angel mumbled as he rubbed his arms, unable to think of what else to say besides making light of something. “Not lookin' forward to the hangover.”  
“I'm sure we'll both survive, somehow.”

The feminine demon followed Alastor's slow walk across his room, stifling a yawn as he sat properly upright on his covers. He felt he needed to ask.  
“Hey. You ever gonna talk like this when you're not drunk, or...?”  
“Probably not, at least not in front of others!” the Radio Demon answered honestly, watching with an upward arch of a brow when Angel scowled in return. But his voice then turned softer, back to the reassuring resonance that had calmed the spider down. “But... should the need ever arise again, I would be very happy to oblige you.”  
“Yeah...?” Angel clarified, feeling a hint of a grin finally beginning to spread across his lips. “I'll hold ya to that, Smiles.”  
“See to it that you do,“ Alastor 'commanded' with a suppressed laugh making his shoulders shake. “Goodnight, Angel.”

As the deer crossed the archway with a twitch of his hand to close the door on its own, Angel stayed staring after him for a moment longer. The smile remained, a smirk daring to join it as the spider cuddled his soft mounds and his pet close to him. So there was going to be a next time then, right? And if Alastor truly didn't hate him...

Maybe there was something to this after all.


	3. Outing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alastor didn't like owing debts of any sort. Owing things was usually a position people had with him rather than the other way around, so offering to be Angel's warden for the night seemed like a good way to kill two birds with one stone. At least until he saw the dress...

“...are you for real right now?”  
“Look, I'm sure it won't take too long. Niffty could use some extra hands on the second floor wing of rooms! And I suppose you have _more_ than a few extra, so-”  
“Don't get cute wi' me, princess! I ain't a fuckin' maid, that's _her_ job!”

Charlie's attempt to retaliate faltered and her shoulders slumped with a noticeable sigh. She should have been used to Angel's stubbornness by now, the same stubbornness common to any demon really, especially after his open boast that he'd only come to the hotel to get a free room rather than help or seek help himself.  
And yet, part of her had been hopeful he'd at least be a little receptive to her suggestion of doing chores. The fact he was still here so long after Alastor's investment at least said something, maybe that some small part of him was yearning to change, buried beneath the surface. Very, _very_ , deep beneath the surface.  
Even putting that aside, she felt that contributing to the upkeep of his living space was surely for his own benefit. If there was one thing she could say about Angel, he cared about appearances a lot. Even more so when they concerned his own. But asking him to help clean wasn't going well. In fact, she was having trouble rousing the adult actor to do anything at the moment.

Angel was sprawled across one of the large couches in the lobby on his stomach, using his lower arms to prop himself up while the upper two tapped and flicked at the screen of his phone. His mismatched eyes stayed glued to the bright glow, kicking his long legs about behind him.  
“I admit it's not exactly a _fun_ thing to do...” Charlie conceded, idly rubbing one of her arms before summoning her trademark cheery smile. “But keeping yourself busy cleaning up will be good! It'll make the whole hotel much nicer to stay in! Surely that's better than just lazing around all day?”  
“The only reason I'm lazin' in the first place is 'cause o' you puttin' me in lockdown!” Angel snapped back. “I can't shoot up to pass the time 'cause ya took away my stash, if the Studio had work for me ya wouldn't let me go, an' ya won't even let me drink without good reason! What else am I gonna do wi' myself when ya won't even let me outta the front door without playin' 20 fuckin' Questions?!”  
“Can you really blame her? The last time you went out, we barely stopped you from getting into even more trouble with that Cherri girl again...”

Angel's eyes narrowed when Vaggie's voice entered the conversation. The moth demon was doing her own cleaning on the other side of the room, particularly around the bar area that she detested so much. No-one else was going to clean it while Husk was out cold for at least another few hours, midday being far too early for him to surface.  
“Hey!” the arachnid called over, pointing at her with a claw. “I was just goin' to a party with a girl buddy! Ain't you two always goin' on about how friendships an' mushy shit are great all the time?”  
“Your 'party' almost got you into another fight!” Vaggie jabbed back, turning on the spot with hands on her hips.  
“So?”  
“With _half the Downtown population_. I don't understand how you can be so flippant about this when you're supposed to be in rehab! Do you not remember the terms of your residency here?”  
“Geez, ya really are no fun...” Angel mumbled, returning his attention back to his phone.

Charlie gestured at her girlfriend to keep calm as a muttering of angry Spanish was barely kept behind clenched teeth. She instead continued to use a calm, gentle tone to appeal to her first patron's good side. She knew it was in there somewhere.  
“What I think Vaggie is _trying_ to say is that there are better ways to focus your pent up energy. As good as Niffty is, even she has her limits because of how big this place is. I'm sure she'd appreciate you helping out!”  
“Why, she need help reachin' the shelves?” Angel asked dryly, rolling onto his back and stretching out his legs as if to emphasise all eight feet of his height. “Look, say by some cosmic miracle I agree to do this. What's in it for me?”  
“Well, uh...” Charlie started, her speech breaking off when she realised she had to make a tempting offer to make him co-operate. Obviously she couldn't allow him to indulge his old habits and undo any iota of progress, but she couldn't restrict him too harshly or she'd not get anywhere...

Aha!

“You could... go out tonight! It's the weekend and you've obeyed the curfew all week. Think of it like a reward for doing this one last thing for us!”  
“Oh?” Angel piped up, pushing himself up into a sitting position with a grin spreading across his face. Charlie's expression winced, however, when she raised a hand to stop him.  
“With conditions though...”  
His smile fell.  
“Oh.”

Angel huffed as he looked at his landlord. No, _warden_. The girl looked sheepish, rubbing the back of her head through thick blonde hair and he could hear Vaggie sigh behind her. She clearly wasn't used to bargaining yet, still seeing it as a learning experience. If he had anything to say about it, it'd be an experience that wouldn't change if she kept shutting him down from doing anything like this.  
Charlie's positivity was almost bi-polar with how it made him feel. Sometimes genuinely endearing when she got all starry-eyed about her plans, then infuriating enough to make him want to tear his fur out. And what right did she have to tell him what to do, anyway? He was _Angel Dust_ , he had soft types like her foaming at the mouth to get an autograph on any given day!   
But... the spider couldn't stay _too_ mad at her, as much as his immature side wanted him to. She had given him a place to get away from the Studio. Away from the boss. Going back there was not in the cards right now, so he had to be thankful for that at least. Still didn't mean he had to enjoy being effectively quarantined.

“Lemme guess,” Angel finally spoke up, resting two of his hands behind his head while the other two adjusted the fit of his jacket around his faux-bust before draping over his thin frame. “Ya don't wanna lemme go anywhere without keepin' tabs on me. Ya don't want me fightin' or doin' anythin' _fun_. An' ya don't want me near drink, drugs, di-”  
“Yes, _all_ of that,” Vaggie interrupted, being terse with her words to stop him going into detail as she came to Charlie's side. “Listen, Angel. Maybe you act like don't want to take this seriously, but we do. We're asking you to do this to help _you_. It's for your own good.”  
“Ya call that _askin'_ , Miss Grumpybug?” the star shot back with a cheeky smirk. “That's a funny definition ya got.”  
“Please, Angel,” Charlie insisted, pressing her hands together in front of her chest. “Could you at least try?”  
“I hate to break it to ya, but we're in _Hell_ , babe. All my normal places have some o' those or _all_ o' those in abundance!” the spider huffed. “An' ya might be Lucifer's girl, but there are guys there that'd eat ya alive if ya came with to keep watch. How's any of that shit gonna work?”  
“I believe _I_ can be of assistance!”

The three demons were broken out of their discussion when a distinct showman timbre and frequencies of detuned radio waves pierced the air. With a flurry of shadow bursting from the ground and then dissipating almost as quickly, Alastor stepped forth from his conjured darkness, brushing away a stray bit of dirt on his lapel as he tapped his cane into the ground.  
“Al? I didn't realise you'd be back today,” Charlie admitted, turning to face him.  
“Well, with my broadcast for the week complete, what sort of sponsor would I be if I didn't 'check in' on my chosen project? Hahaha!” Alastor laughed, looking pleased with his hotel pun with teeth gleaming in the lobby lights.  
“So you were you listening in on us?” Vaggie barked, glaring at the Radio Demon as he seemed utterly uninterested in her little outburst.  
“Hardly! Even without my powers, you're making quite the racket, my dear!” he beamed back. “Now, what's all this about 'hitting the town', so to speak?”

Vaggie folded her arms with a grunt, still having extreme reservations about Alastor and his presence within the workings of her partner's dream. She was putting up with him for Charlie's sake, even if the Radio Demon was almost making it a mission to irritate her with his barbed retorts and antagonistic quips.   
How anyone could stand being around the deer, she didn't know. It was no wonder that demons ran for the hills from him! Well, most of them at any rate. For in that moment, Vaggie noticed something peculiar as Charlie and Alastor briefly stepped away from the group to speak to one another.

Out of the corner of her working eye, Vaggie noticed that Angel was suddenly acting different. While he was still sprawled over the seating and trying to play ignorant, she noticed that his eyes were occasionally looking across from her towards Alastor. Almost attentively so whenever the Radio Demon's voice was audible.  
Maybe it was as simple as preferring to pay more attention to the deer than her, but something about this was... off. She'd seen Angel make flirty alluring glances towards potential clients, but this didn't feel anything like that. It was softer. More 'honest', for lack of a better word. She folded her arms tighter across her chest in suspicion...

“Ah, yes, leave it to me!” Alastor blurted out, breaking Vaggie free from her prying gaze as he came walking back towards her with Charlie in tow.  
“Are you sure?” Charlie asked, seeming almost worried she'd done something wrong by getting him involved with the problem. “I wasn't meaning to put this on you, I was just trying to explain what was going on and-”  
“Do not fret one modicum over it, my dear!” he interrupted, resting one of his arms around her shoulder to gesture with his cane. “I'll ensure that this little arrangement is kept on the straight and narrow.”  
“Since when do _you_ do anything on the straight and narrow?” Vaggie asked, her scowl only intensifying when Alastor tilted his head to her in reply.  
“Well isn't it more satisfying to see things _break_ after everything appears be in place?”

The deer let go of Charlie with a soft chuckle, a sound bite of laughter punctuating his movements as he brushed one of his sharp fingertips through his hair to fix a stray lock. Before Vaggie had a chance to let her annoyance be known, Charlie had already taken her hand and was pulling her away from their two guest demons.  
“It's alright, Vaggie, Al said he'd take care of it!”  
“Take care of _what_ , exactly?!” the moth demon exclaimed, still trying to look back over her shoulder to Alastor. “Didn't you hear what he just said? And you really think Angel's going to listen? When they met, the first thing out of his mouth was wanting to get in the guy's pants!”  
“It'll be okay, I promise!” Charlie insisted, her broad smile radiating the positivity that Vaggie loved about her. “Al said he could ensure Angel did his chores and keep an eye on him when he went out tonight! Even if it's technically _making_ him do it, it could be the start of making some good habits!”  
“I dunno, hon... having Talk Show involved in anything never feels right to me.”  
“Just let him handle it this time. Please?”  
Vaggie sighed. She knew full well that even if she had a decent argument against her girlfriend's reasons, she wouldn't be able to change her mind on it anyway. She conjured a rare smile of her own, squeezing Charlie's hand a little tighter. Maybe she had a point... after all, there had to be _some_ reason why Angel was acting like less of an ass than normal when Alastor showed up.  
  
“...fine. But please don't make me say I told you so later, 'kay?”

* * *

“Good afternoon, Angel!” Alastor announced, immediately drawing the spider's attention towards him with a twirl of his cane before leaning on it.  
“Oh! What's up, Smiles?” came the reply, almost as if he hadn't been expecting to be spoken to directly. The Radio Demon's brow arched upwards curiously, gaze briefly wandering over his counterpart's form as if to assess the star. No longer relaxed, now sitting upright at attention. A far more positive aura than what he had sensed through his powers before arriving.  
“Young Charlotte has been telling me of her predicament,” he explained after a moment of silence. “Specifically involving you doing some housework in exchange for a night in the city.”  
“Oh, great. Don't tell me she's won ya over with that too?”  
“She has a point, you know. I'm sure even one such as you has standards for where you sleep and eat.”  
“I already told her, I _ain't_ a maid!” Angel groaned, rolling his eyes. He paused for a moment before a sultry grin exposed his teeth. “Unless _you_ wanna see me dressed up like one~”  
“ _No_ , thank you,” Alastor said quickly, his ears seeming to prickle up a little at the implication. Angel simply shrugged and sank back down into the seat again.  
“Can't blame me for tryin',” he mumbled.

Alastor kept his eyes on Angel as he pondered those words. In a way, he supposed he _couldn't_ blame him at such an attempt at flirting. It had been only a few days since their drunken night at Husk's bar, when Angel had gotten the wrong impression and subsequently severely embarrassed himself for it. Though it had been partially Alastor's fault for encouraging it in the first place in one of the rare instances he'd felt regret over his own actions, alcohol or not.  
Indeed, part of the reason he had come back to the Hotel was to try and emphasise his apology, thinking that the drunken one he gave that early morning was not proper enough to match how Angel had opened up about a lot of things. That part was even more obvious in how the effeminate male clearly still had some sort of attraction towards him.   
Nonetheless, a gentleman always settled his debt, and Alastor was not the sort who wanted to owe people things. So when Charlie had explained her troubles with the deal she was trying to make, the Radio Demon had seen it as a bit of an opportunity to make good on that intent. After all, owing Angel anything was certainly not in his repertoire of interests... He cleared his throat.

“To get straight to the point,” Alastor started. “I have offered my services to Charlotte to ensure you complete your chores and will accompany you on your rewarded evening to ensure you don't do anything to sully the hotel's image.”  
“How sweet o' ya,” Angel remarked, looking at the back of a gloved hand like he was examining his nails and causing the deer to blink at his apathy. “Not to throw a wrench in stuff or nothin', but I can't go anywhere, Al. It ain't much of a reward when all my normal haunts are banned, so forget it.”  
“Who said _you_ would be choosing where you were going?”

Angel blinked, sitting upright almost immediately. He turned his head to properly look at Alastor, the Radio Demon still standing there with that smug grin plastered over his stupid, pale... handsome features. Angel's own face twisted into one of puzzlement, an odd sensation spiking in his chest. The same one that had bloomed within at the bar.  
“Whaddya mean?”  
“I mean that _I_ shall be taking you somewhere tonight,” Alastor answered, not wanting to waste time beating around the bush. “Naturally, it wouldn't be somewhere quite as seedy and _squalid_ as your preferences, but I would hope you'd enjoy it all the same.”  
“ _You_ wanna take _me_ out some place...?”  
“Is that a problem?”  
“No! No, no, not a problem!” Angel stumbled, that old heat flaring up in his cheeks starting to burn again. “Just... maybe I'm puttin' two an' two together an' gettin' five here, but ain't that kinda... ya know, askin' me out?”   
“Oh, no! Do not get the wrong idea again, my friend!” he laughed to brush off such a notion. “You _know_ I have no such interest in courtship and the like. I simply mean that as the investor of this establishment, it wouldn't be proper of me not to assist in keeping things running smoothly! It would help my little Niffty for you to do this as well.”  
“Yeah... I suppose.”

Alastor's permanent smile faltered when he saw a look of dejection beginning to pollute Angel's otherwise pristine features, like he'd once again been expecting more from such an offer. Quickly realising that he had almost repeated his past mistake, the Radio Demon leaned in a little closer to get the arachnid's attention and put his mind at ease.  
“Besides,” he hummed in a low tone. “Are you forgetting that I was being sincere when I told you I enjoy your company?”  
“No... no, I didn't forget,” Angel murmured, his smile returning as he shook his head to try and remain collected.  
“Excellent! Then we're in agreement,” Alastor finalised, taking a step away from the seat and gesturing towards the stairs with his cane. “I shall meet you here at eight this evening, provided that you finish all of your tasks adequately. Just be warned that Niffty has very high standards.”  
“Ugh. That's a funny way o' sayin' that any stray germ left means it ain't clean enough...”   
“All the more reason to snap to it! Break a leg, old sport!”

Alastor watched as Angel took a few steps past him to head wherever the hyperactive cyclops was zipping around on the second floor. But the spider stopped halfway up the stairs, looking over his shoulder with a flutter of his lashes as though he couldn't resist one more quip.  
“I'd rather _you_ break me, handsome~” he cooed, causing Alastor to seize up with a harsh ringing of noise and another twitch of his ears. His brow lowered in a somewhat flustered scowl as Angel's giggling echoed around the hall.  
“If I were to break you, it would certainly _not_ be in the manner you desire. Nor would it be as pleasant.”  
“I dunno, sounds hot to me, babe!~” came the reply, the effeminate demon resuming his onward journey with a departing salute.

Alastor huffed and straightened his jacket once Angel was out of sight, returning to his former level of calm. Sure had a way with words, that one... but he had to admit it was somewhat entertaining with how the star always caught him off guard with his rather forward remarks, even when they weren't both drunk.   
He smirked, rolling his wrist to summon another undulating wave of darkness to disappear into. Perhaps the evening would prove to be just as interesting.

* * *

The clock ticked loudly in the open space of the lobby. Save for a few of the more curious sorts poking their heads in and even resulting in a check in (which Charlie had been riding the high of all afternoon), the hotel was quiet as it always was. It was five minutes until the clock struck eight and Alastor had arrived early to ensure he would be punctual, even if his assigned charge wouldn't be.  
He'd arrived in what he thought would be the best attire for his kind of night out. A suit jacket, intense black in colour and with coat tails long enough to reach his knees. A white collared shirt and red tie could be seen on the open front of the jacket, an equally intense red rose pinned to his left lapel.   
Coupled with smart black trousers, his clawed gloves and shoes and he looked ready to go to a ball if he wanted to. It wasn't what he had in mind for tonight, but it at least made him prepared for anything he chose considering his normal picks of venue.

Alastor adjusted the fit of his tie, leaning against the railing of the hotel's main stairs to wait for Angel to arrive. Per his instructions, the spider had actually thrown himself into trying to keep up with Niffty's cleaning efforts, a titanic effort in and of itself. She seemed to have been very thankful for his aid, ironically from the benefit of his impressive height that he had been joking about to start with.   
The Radio Demon had then instructed Angel to choose the best _modest_ outfit he could muster, with particular emphasis on that word. While the star obviously had few limits over what clothes he'd be willing to wear, Alastor was hoping that he at least had something more formal or classy compared to his usual sexually driven looks. He didn't want to to risk other demons getting the wrong impression of what this little outing was about.

Was it technically abusing Angel's crush to get him to do what was asked? Yes. But if it got him to be co-operative, then what did it matter? At least, that was how Alastor was rationalising this whole affair to himself now he was on the cusp of taking out a porn star to dinner.

Three minutes to eight. Another fidget of his jacket, purely to waste time of course. Not that he was anxious to get going or anything, especially after he had made his intentions for tonight _very_ clear in comparison to a while back. But that didn't mean that other people saw it that way.

“You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were almost chompin' at the bit to go out on this thing,” Husk suddenly said from behind Alastor, his rasping timbre making the deer's ears twitch.  
“Don't be silly, Husker!” he rebuffed, waving a hand dismissively as he turned to face his associate. “You don't know me as well as you think you do if _that's_ the impression you're getting.”  
“I'm just saying,” the cat shrugged. “I saw how you two were gettin' real chummy before. Frankly, I'm surprised this hasn't been arranged sooner.”  
“This _isn't_ what you're implying it is, and I _resent_ the comparison. I am merely fulfilling my obligation to help young Charlotte out of the impasse she'd forced upon herself!”

Husk didn't seem convinced, raising an thick eyebrow as his paws fidgeted, flicked and spun around a deck of cards atop the bar counter. He didn't have the motivation to argue about it, but he was certain that Alastor wouldn't have gone to the trouble of looking that smart if he wasn't trying to impress on some level.  
He huffed as his gaze looked past the Radio Demon for a passing moment before returning to the deck.  
“Maybe you don't think that, but the other guy certainly does.”  
Alastor squinted at the bartender with a slight curling of his lip.  
“What?”  
“Uh... ready!”

A voice from behind him stopped Alastor dead in his tracks, causing him to whirl around on the spot to look toward the top of the stairs. The owner of the voice had only just begun to descend them, multiple arms holding onto the rail as hands slid down the smooth surface with each step.  
Angel's attire was probably the fanciest that Alastor had ever seen him in, indeed that anyone in the hotel had probably seen. The arachnid demon had chosen a dark purple sequinned dress, strapless with a low bac and seeming to emphasise the false cleavage of his fur with how it pushed it up. A parting in the side revealed the spider's long stocking-clad legs, finished with black heels almost obscured by the dress itself. Not exactly modest as requested, but impressive all the same.  
Each of his four limbs were adorned with similarly coloured ballroom gloves past the elbow and his make-up was simple purple eyeshadow and longer lashes than normal. His thick hair was kept partially out of the way by a small purple hat worn at an angle, a long black and white feather pinned to the side. Each step he took made the light shine off the surface of the material, almost dazzling to behold.

And it was in that moment, when his deep crimson eyes rested upon Angel looking so unlike how he usually presented himself, Alastor felt something unusual. Unfamiliar and foreign. _Wrong_. He felt like his chest had almost clamped in on itself, a taught clenching around his heart that caused the muscle to thump against his ribs.  
Seeing Angel looking so beautiful, for lack of a better word, felt wrong in itself. Even more so with how he had emulated the fashions of his mortal era in the 1930s. It was no wonder that seeing such a contradiction between appearance and personality had thrown him off like this.  
The deer's hand reached up to touch the space beneath his tie, almost as if this awful cramping were a symptom of something. Was he starting to come down with an illness, just with unfortunate timing? He felt a chill run down his back, yet a noticeable hot flush graced him beneath the surface of his pale skin. This was... what the devil was this?   
It absolutely _wasn't_ anything to do with Angel, that was for sure, even if seeing him had triggered it. The deer hadn't even come close to feeling anything like this when he was drunk, at a time when he would be the most vulnerable to such weakness in his conviction! It was surely just some sort of awkwardness, knowing full well he was going to be taking a lusty degenerate to a place where he was known by people, that was all!

“Uh... you alright, Al?” Angel finally spoke up, his eyes peering down at his 'warden' for the night because of their difference in height. The Radio Demon snapped up to attention with a twitch of his ears.  
“Y-Yes! Quite alright, better than alright even, haha!” he insisted, another audience sample laughing along with his attempt to brush off the ailment. “I was just... not expecting you to own or be wearing such clothing given your... usual activities.”  
“Eh, it was the best I could do with what I brought with me,” the spider admitted, shrugging all of his arms and gesturing to himself. “I don't usually got much in the way o' fancy shit. But it's something I've busted out in summa my drag routines before, and ya said make an effort, so...”  
“It's more than adequate. Wonderful, even! I think it's exquisite...” Alastor replied, his eyes widening a little more at realising what he said. “The dress, I mean! Anyone would say so with such fine tailoring, ha!”  
“Ah... well, I'm glad ya think so...” Angel said, reaching up a hand to ensure his hat was still in place with an almost shy grin. Alastor kept staring, finding that look as endearing as the first time he saw it at the bar. He had come to rather like the effeminate demon's smile...

“Don't you two have some place to go so you ain't gawkin' at each other all night?”  
Husk's voice from behind snapped Alastor out of his probably impolite staring, shaking him back to the task at hand.  
“Ah, y-yes, of course! No time like eternity, as they say!”   
“Then enlighten me, babe. Where ya draggin' me to?”  
“I've chosen somewhere rather fitting for Charlie's limitations on what you're allowed, I hope you'll agree! Perhaps something as simple as dinner seems a little droll to you, but-”  
“No, dinner sounds awesome!” Angel blurted back, cutting the Radio Demon off mid-sentence. Alastor smirked at his enthusiasm, holding out an arm to take so they could leave.  
“Well, then. Right this way, my dear.”

* * *

“No. Fuckin'. _Way._ ”  
“To borrow a modern expression of yours, 'yes way', Angel.”   
  
Alastor chuckled as the two demons came to a stop outside of the deer's chosen location for their outing, leaving the spider a little shocked at what it was. Having spent a few minutes walking through the streets of Pentagram City's more upmarket areas after using dark powers to transport themselves here, Alastor had brought them to entrance of The Red Club.   
One of the finest eateries upon Envy Square, serving the finest dishes and service in Hell at the cost of being far too expensive for any poor soul to afford it. A trap or torment for any who had gluttony and coveting as their major sins.  
Only very powerful demons and overlords ever ate here, that much was certain. Despite his fame among the denizens of the realm for his work, Angel hadn't come close to that sort of influence during his decades in Hell, only ever having seen this place from the outside. For Alastor to be able to get in here said all it needed to about his reputation, but he thought he'd ask anyway.  
  
“...how?”  
“Surely you remember my infamy precedes me?” Alastor answered, tilting his head in amusement at seeing Angel looking almost star struck. “Indeed, I have quite the understanding with many of the businesses in the City because of it. This is no exception.”  
“This ain't just an understandin', Al, the waitin' list on this place is centuries long!” the spider blurted out, gesturing to the opulent statues of hellhounds that adorned the main entrance.  
“Then consider it a small victory over the rest of the poor fools who want in as well!” the deer smirked, tugging at Angel's hooked arm to urge them both inside. “Shall we?”

He didn't really have a choice. Angel simply followed Alastor's lead as the two of them crossed the threshold of the door to the Club. The mood was deeply atmospheric, with the lighting dim, the music sombre and each table having a single candle in the middle for illumination.   
The moment the Radio Demon stepped inside, the waiter standing patiently to guide patrons to a table jerked straight upright. The bird-like demon smiled pleasantly towards them, but Angel could tell it was not a calm smile. He was nervous, apprehensive even.  
“W-Welcome back, Alastor!” the waiter finally spoke up, gesturing with a wing to be followed. “I see you've brought company with you this time, quite rare for you!”  
“An associate with one of my projects. Make sure you treat him well, it's his first time here,” came the reply. “Which leaves me to ask for the usual table, if you could!”  
“O-Of course, r-right this way!”

The waiter sat Angel and Alastor down at a secluded spot near the back of the restaurant, complete with a window view of one of the giant chasms of flame that surrounded the City. In a matter of moments, he'd left them with menus to peruse and a glass of fine wine to savour, all of it happening so fast that Angel was having a hard time catching up.  
He was sat in one of the greatest restaurants in the City, with _Alastor_ of all people, just for helping a hyperactive maid reach some shit off tall shelves. He'd had his occasional strings of good luck when it came to scoring good deals on drugs or winning some of the fights he got into, but this was ridiculous.  
In truth... it almost made him feel out of place. Even though he looked the part with the most formal feminine clothing that he owned, Angel knew that he wasn't like the demons in here. They weren't the sort who'd watch his material and they hadn't even seemed to realise who he was when he walked in with Alastor. That was a strange feeling to get used to, though whether it was because of them not knowing or because Alastor's presence stopped them from judging, he couldn't say.

“Is everything alright, Angel?” the Radio Demon suddenly asked, having leaned in when he realised that his partner had yet to say a word about anything since they sat down. The spider jerked back to reality as a burst of flame from the chasm illuminated his face, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head with a brief roll of his shoulders.  
“Yeah, yeah, I'm... I just ain't never been to a place like this before.”  
“I assure you, not many demons have. But I hope it is to your liking all the same.”  
“No, I mean I ain't never been to a place like this before, _period,_ ” Angel clarified, lowering his menu down to the table with a flare of heat in his face from starting to talk all soft like last time. “Ya know, goin' out to dinner with someone an'... all that shit...”  
“I had always assumed you were well known enough, and paid enough, to go wherever you pleased?” Alastor inquired with a sip of wine.  
“Nah. I always end up havin' to pay the Studio a cut o' what I earn at work or on the streets. Any left I blow on narc, clothes or rent, least 'til her Majesty picked me up,” the spider huffed, resting his head against an upper hand as he looked out of the window. “Never really had the budget, the right kinda rep, or anyone to go with to get into this part o' town.”  
“Well, I assure you that you certainly look as though you do now. And I suppose you do have someone at the moment...”

Angel blinked at that statement, turning his attention towards Alastor properly as the deer took another sip of wine. A longer one than before. He set his glass down and tugged his collar again as though it were a nervous tic, seeming to deliberately avoid the star's eyes until he spoke up again. Like he was... nervous?  
Alastor? _Nervous?_

“Ahem... at any rate,” the deer resumed, nodding his head towards Angel's discarded menu to try and draw attention away from the odd symptoms he felt. “Do choose what you like. I know they serve some rather wonderful Italian classics you may enjoy.”  
“Al, I ain't gonna go crazy an' cause a problem by blowin' ya budget. I know Princess Gumdrop asked ya to keep me away from the 'banned locales', but this place seems too grand to waste that kinda cash on me.”  
“Think nothing of cost, my dear. My instructions were to keep your nose out of bother and also ensure you were properly rewarded for aiding in the upkeep of the hotel,” Alastor explained, flicking a menu page. “Throw in the fact that I wish to properly make amends on my insensitive comments from before and this seemed perfect.”  
“Insensitive comments?” Angel asked, his eyes narrowing in thought until he remembered what the other was talking about. “Wait... yer still worried 'bout that? It's fine, Al, ya already said ya were sorry!”  
“I don't like owing debts to those I'm fond of, Angel, and I was far too brief in apologising given my inebriation. Consider this an extension of that apology to 'bury the hatchet', so to speak.”  
  
Angel's smile returned. He had to admire Alastor's insistence to be a gentleman over everything despite what he was most well known for. Not to mention... he was _fond_ of him now, eh? That was pretty encouraging, persistent reasoning this was all in the name of helping Charlie out aside. He grabbed his menu again.  
“Well... hatchet buried an' dead as far as I care.”  
“Glad to hear it!” Alastor exclaimed. “I'd have had to surely use said hatchet on an unfortunate soul to stop it going to waste otherwise, haha!”

* * *

The Club definitely lived up to the hype as the evening progressed from then onward. With anything they could ask for on offer at the snap of a finger, Angel and Alastor were endowed with one of the finest meals that a sinner could want if they could stomach the asking price. Or maybe it just felt that way to Angel given how the Hotel was only _just_ starting to get better food.  
He'd gone for a _pasta carbonara_ , an old favourite of his back from his human life that he had good memories of his mother cooking. Alastor had chosen something much more substantial, a joint of perfectly seasoned venison to savour. The spider thought it was an odd pick until he remembered Alastor's usual palettes for flesh being just as quirky, thinking nothing more of it beyond that.  
As the Radio Demon wiped his mouth clean on a napkin, leaving a dark red smear from the blood on his lips, his smile widened for a moment at seeing Angel enjoy himself this much. The star hadn't been lying when he said he hadn't been to establishments of this price bracket before and he was savouring every bite.  
  
“I trust the food is to your liking?” he asked with a tilt of his head.  
“Are you kiddin'? This is fuckin' great!” Angel blurted back as he swallowed his most recent mouthful. He cringed a little in on himself realising how loud he was, dabbing his own mouth before he spoke again. “Seriously, I can't remember the last time I had food this good.”  
“I'll be sure to pass your compliments on to the chef,” Alastor nodded, taking another sip of his drink. “I hear he was a renowned one in life, before he started getting a knack for adding poison to his recipes...”  
“Hey, if poison tastes this good, sign me up for more. Ya know my Ma used to make this one a lot?”  
“Your mother was a cook?”  
“Mhm! Ya'd never go hungry at our house back in the day! She'd insist on it,” Angel smiled, twirling in fork in his hand. “I think ya'd have liked her.”  
Alastor's smile flexed wider.  
“I'm sure that I would, dear.”

He chuckled as Angel beamed at him, returning to sweep up the remnants of his plate. His own attention was drawn outside to a burst of fire from the chasm. Though his outward features wouldn't give it away easily, he honestly didn't feel totally comfortable. Indeed, those strange weaknesses in his chest were still persisting and they hadn't gone away. In fact, they'd only gotten worse as they'd talked.  
He couldn't think on what was causing them. And he couldn't think of why they'd only flared up when he saw Angel dressed up like this. He'd made himself crystal clear, he was _not_ interested or attracted to him in any way shape or form. And he certainly _wasn't_ getting a soft spot for Angel just because they had more in common than he had assumed at first.  
So then why did that feeling clench even harder inside him when Angel glanced his way? Why did seeing that smile now intensify it when it was bound to precede a sexual comment that usually irritated him? He sighed, finishing off his glass of wine rather quickly. Truly confusing... perhaps he had been poisoned somewhere else by one of his enemies.  
  
“Oh, no... oh, _fuck!_ ”  
The sudden hushed yet alarmed voice of his partner caused Alastor to break out of his thoughts. Angel was looking over his shoulder towards the entrance of the Club and his eyes had widened considerably in what could only be described as a panic. He turned around, hunching in on himself and staring at his discarded cutlery on the plate, arms clutching around his front.  
“What's wrong, Angel?” Alastor asked.  
“Look, just don't draw any attention here, 'kay?” the arachnid hissed, only briefly meeting Alastor's eyes before he tugged his hat a little bit further down over his face. “Shit, shit, shit, _shit_....!

The deer's brow lowered, looking past his counterpart to where he had been staring moments ago. A newcomer to the Club had just walked in, towering over all of the staff more so than Angel did. He had other female demons on either side of him, hugging into the sides of a thick red fur coat that obscured his feet. The demon's hat was a pale imitation of a gentleman's top hat and a pair of heart-shaped glasses rested against his insect-like features.  
Valentino stepped past the waiter, not even bothering with the pleasantries of being led to a table and deciding to choose one for himself. Alastor could sense the ego on him from this distance alone as he walked. He'd never met the overlord face to face, but he'd at least heard of his control over the Crimson Districts before, along with the Studio.  
Of course Valentino would be here if he held such an esteemed position. But then why did that leave the spider almost cowering at the thought of his boss coming over to speak to him? Alastor scowled with a slightly weaker smile as he watched the tall moth pimp saunter through the restaurant, catching a few eyes and calls of appreciation from his associates as he dismissed his eye candy girls to sit down. But it was clear from his path he was making a bee line for Angel in particular.

“Well, well, well, what a pleasant surprise to find here tonight!” Valentino's voice suddenly boomed, his smooth tones flowing through the air like his signature pink vapours. The vibrations appeared to transfer to Angel, the arachnid's body shivering as his boss's shadow loomed over from behind. “I never thought I'd see _you_ in here, Angel Cakes. Where you're not _supposed_ to be.”  
“I was _busy_ , Val!” Angel growled, his arms folding tighter across his fluffy chest with a furious scowl on his face. “Tryin' to let summa the heat from the turf war die down, ya know?”  
“And you think that gives you the right to treat yourself somewhere like this? Especially given how much money you still owe me? Not a smart move if you're wasting _my_ funds in here...”  
“I ain't been wastin' shit, I'm workin' on it! I ain't on a fuckin' leash when I'm not at work...”

“Oh, that's where you're wrong, baby...” the moth insisted, his multiple limbs sliding across his star's lithe form before suddenly jerking him in his seat to face him. Some around his waist, another under his chin to make him look him in the eye. And the other giving a very hard squeeze to his backside. “You know you're supposed to be where I can keep an eye on you. And you don't want to upset me, do you?”  
“M-Mmph...” huffed the spider, cringing as he screwed his eyes shut to avoid looking. Val snarled and squeezed harder. Angel yelped.  
“ **DO YOU?!** ”  
“N-No, Mista Valentino...!” came the whimper, his expression contorted into intense discomfort.   
“Good boy,” the pimp chuckled to himself as he molested his property so openly, deliberately sliding his claws over curves and beneath the dress to make sure the spider was squirming as hard as possible.

Watching from across the table, Alastor almost felt sick watching, grip on his glass tightening enough for it to crack. Unlike against any other demons who tried their luck with Angel unwarranted, there wasn't even an attempt to resist Valentino... if it wasn't for his strong belief in social etiquette, he'd have already sprung into action over this filth.  
Now he understood why Angel had stuck around the Hotel despite his open complaining, his front of being uncaring about its message. He wanted to stay away from his boss. But it was obvious to anyone watching this that despite his outwards persona of bluster and boldness, the arachnid simply didn't have the power or the bravery to stand up to someone as intimidating as Valentino.  
And that was all Alastor needed to see to put a stop to it.

“Can we help you?” he interrupted, his voice briefly slipping out of the radio filter to make sure he was heard. “I would refer to you as sir or as a fellow gentleman, but that wouldn't be the truth, would it?”  
Valentino's head twitched towards the deer, his arms pulling away from his cringing whore's body with a hard shove as his own expression turned equally as sour.  
“Now, this is just _rich_. Not only staying away from me, but trying to pull the moves on the Radio Demon in the meantime? Angie, baby, you're in some real deep shit...”  
“Leave him out of this and answer the question.”  
“I don't have to say _anything_ to the likes of you.”  
“So you're aware of who I am, at least?” Alastor asked, his smile twitching up one side of his face.  
“Vox has said enough about you to burn my fucking ears off,” Valentino grumbled, folding his arms. “Yes, I know all about you and what you do to get your kicks. I just didn't realise you dealt with _sluts_ as a side gig.”  
“Ah, you're an associate of Vox? I'm glad to hear he has friends as repulsive as he is!”

Valentino growled, taking a step forward towards Alastor with an accusing finger.  
“I don't know what game you think you're playing here, Radiohead, but Angel is _mine_. And I don't appreciate things that belong to me being handled by pieces of shit like you.”  
“Oh, I have no intention of “handling” Angel like you do at all. I'm actually treating him like a _person,_ for one,” Alastor clarified, adjusting his lapel and not even bothering to look his aggressor in the eye. “And believe me, that's quite rare of me to do!”  
“A-Al...” Angel whimpered, his voice barely a whisper as his eyes kept switching between his employer and his counterpart.  
“You got something to say to me, you smarmy fucker?” the pimp barked at the deer.  
“I do, if you're so insistent on hearing it. But know that I intended for this evening to remain pleasant.”

With a smooth motion, Alastor rose from his seat and stared directly up towards Valentino. The air around him seemed to turn pale, like he was holding back a veil of darkness that could corrupt whatever it touched if it weren't for him. His eyes flared with a red glow as bursts of voodoo glyphs and symbols flickered in and out of existence, the Radio Demon's voice barely being restrained by the filtering frequencies as he spoke.  
“You may not approve of what Angel does when you can't keep an eye on him, but _I_ don't approve of someone I enjoy the company of being treated like _that_ by a disgusting _cockroach_. You may be able to intimidate him, but you _can't_ intimidate me. For all your threats, all of your filthy invasions of another's privacy, you know you would never win in a straight fight. And I don't think you'd even want to try.”  
“Now, listen here...!” the moth spluttered, taking a step back.  
“No, let _me_ have the final word on this,” Alastor commanded, raising up a hand as tendrils of crimson light danced between his fingers. His grin turned evil, sharper than ever. “You are going to turn around. You are going to leave Angel _alone._ And you will allow us to finish our dinner in peace. And if you don't comply, **I won't even give you a chance to regret that mistake.** ”

Valentino's bore themselves in a frustrated growl, lines of red drooling over his lower lip. As much as he couldn't admit it here, he knew that the Radio Demon was right. Starting a fight here and now would risk him losing everything that he had both physically and socially, as much as he was loathe to concede victory to someone as pompous as this fuck. He huffed, turning around on the spot to carry out his “instructions”, but paused to glare at Angel.  
“You fucked up on this one, Angel. And you're not going to get away without a punishment, I _promise_ you that...”

The spider didn't look up or acknowledge Valentino had said anything, only vaguely aware of the pimp leaving with the clack of his shoes against the restaurant floor. Any other time, a threat of retribution for doing something wrong to the boss would shake him to his core. But at that moment, all he could focus on was Alastor. Still brimming with power, utterly refusing to back down against such a monster. For _his_ sake.  
And then, as quickly as he had summoned it, the darkness surrounding the deer dissipated and he sat back down with his normal smile coming back.  
“So, onto dessert then! I hope you have room.”

Angel's mouth fell open. Was he being serious right now? He gestured towards the empty space were Valentino had been stood and then back to where Alastor was sitting.  
“Are you fuckin' kiddin' me? That's _all_ yer gonna say on that?!”  
“Yes, I think so! Now, might I recommend the tiramisu? Even for someone like me who isn't fond of sweets, it's utterly divine!”  
“Al, ya just made _Valentino_ back off from gettin' somethin' that he wanted, without even flinchin'!” Angel insisted, not wanting to just drop it.  
“And?” the deer hummed, twitching his head to the side.  
“I ain't seen anyone do that before. No-one at the Studio's even _tried_ to stop him from doin' stuff if I'm... 'bad'.”  
“Well, in that case...” Alastor started, directing his pleasant grin towards his dinner partner to put his mind at ease. This was clearly not a good thing to discuss at the moment. “You should know that I'm not just anyone, my dear. As long as he stopped, that's good enough for me.”

The words stopped Angel in his tracks. The spider's body finally relaxed, that warm feeling in his chest swelling up again.  
“...ya stood up for me.”  
“Well, it just wouldn't do if he had his way, would it?” the Radio Demon explained. “I promised young Charlotte that I would prevent anything from ruining the Hotel's image, and that includes her star patron being 'handled' in public. I take my promises very seriously!”

Angel laughed, shaking his head with how Alastor was still insisting that everything he'd done was for the sake of his investment in the Hotel. While he had his own doubts about whether or not it was the true reason, he'd roll with it for the time being. Even if the faint pink in his cheeks betrayed his own feelings on the matter.  
“Whatever ya say, tough guy...” he hummed, prompting Alastor's own smile to widen. Even though that clenching feeling in his chest was still strong when he saw Angel smile like that... it didn't feel bad. For the moment, anyway. He was sure it would all come crashing down unless they moved on.

“So, the tiramisu then?”

* * *

Husk was woken from his drunken stupor by the opening of the Hotel front door. He winced at the street lights from outside shining into his eyes, only just able to make out the clock being shy of midnight by a few minutes. The voices of the missing pair of Hotel residents followed the warm air in, at least solving the mystery of who'd woken him up. The cat grunted, forcing himself upright and sipping the last few drops of vodka out of his glass as he pondered the arrivals.  
Angel was just coming to the end of a laugh over one of Alastor's corny jokes, somehow finding the excruciatingly bad ones all the funnier. Alastor in turn was leading his dinner partner inside with the sound of old swing punctuating every step. The pair of them eventually released their hold of hooked arms to face the other at the foot of the stairs.  
“Seriously, Al, ya ever tried addin' a comedy section to ya broadcast?”  
“I'd have thought the screaming of the most deplorable would be comedy enough?”  
“Eh, everyone's got their kinks, I guess...”

The scene turned quiet. Alastor stood patiently with his arms behind his back, looking up at Angel who seemed to have regressed back into his crush-addled state from days ago. He pressed two of his hands together while the other fiddled with the front of his dress, trying to work out what to say.  
“Al... tonight was real great. Seriously. _Way_ better than whatever Her Highness wanted me to do.”  
“I am pleased to hear it, Angel,” Alastor nodded, almost bowing. “I had an enjoyable evening as well. Minus the little interruption of your employer, of course, but I can see to him if he tries to bother you like that again.”  
“Oh, ya don't hafta do that! I've handled him for a long time now, I'll be okay,” the arachnid insisted, though Alastor's brief suspicious look showed he didn't buy it. “Thank you, though...”  
“But, of course.”

Angel exhaled slowly, looking at the clock above the bar and realising the time. He gave another smile to his “date” for the night and started to turn away to head up to bed. But then he stopped. A crackling of static punctuated Alastor's confusion over it as Angel returned to where he had been.  
“Okay. Promise ya won't stab me, gut me, or do any o' yer radio shit.”  
“Why would I do that?” the deer asked curiously.  
“Just promise me, a'right?”  
“Hmm... if you insist. But that still doesn't explain wh-”

Alastor froze like his namesake in the headlights when he felt something hot press against his face and stay there for what may have been only a second but felt like a lot longer. His entire body went rigid, ears pricked stiffly upwards with another burst of radio noise spiking around him. Did he just get...?   
Angel pulled back from his brief kiss to the cheek, hugging his multitude of arms inwards as if he had expecting a much more severe form of retribution for doing that. Thankfully, none came, and he could only really smile when he saw Alastor's wide eyes fixed upon up with a furious flush of red on pale skin.  
“For standin' up for me... G'night, Al.”

The Radio Demon kept staring after the effeminate one as they hurried up the stairs before anything else happened, disappearing out of sight at the top of the landing and leaving Alastor stood there in bafflement. He touched his fingertips to where Angel had kissed him, finding that it was still burning hot while the rest of him felt cold. And now he was paying attention to it, the vice-like grip on his chest had returned in force too.  
While he had not completely broken like before, Alastor huffed in confusion as to why these strange feelings had been determined to stick around ever since the early evening. He ended up using his cane to help him towards Husk's bar because of how weak in the legs that peck had gotten him, sliding onto a bar stool and rapping his sharp tipped gloves onto the counter to rouse the cat into alert.

“A round of cognac, good fellow... make it a large one.”  
“What's the occasion?” Husk asked dryly, getting to work on pouring the booze without taking his eyes off his assigned task.  
“I feel a tad... woozy. I have been most of the night, it's the damnedest thing! Perhaps I have caught some sort of illness? I do not know what it is, but it is not pleasant at all...”  
“Lemme guess. You feel weak in the knees, your chest is all tight, lotsa temperature changes you don't understand.”  
“Yes, that's exactly it!” Alastor exclaimed, snapping his fingers. “I didn't know you were versed in such things, Husker. What is it?”  
“It's called likin' someone, dumbass” the bartender said straight. “I know, I didn't think you were capable of it either, but here we are.”  
Alastor's eye twitched.  
“I like _plenty_ of people, we wouldn't know each other if I didn't. It's certainly not that.”  
“No, Al. I mean _like_ like somebody.”

The glass of cognac was set down to punctuate the statement. The Radio Demon glanced between his drink and Husk's blank face, almost in disbelief as to what he was saying. He let out a laugh, emphasised by another sound bite as he took a hearty swig of the alcohol.  
“Haha! Oh, you must be joking, my friend! I have _no_ interest in such things whatsoever!”  
“Feelings don't tend to care about what your interests or intentions are,” Husk replied, starting to clean out his own empty glass with a cloth. “You started acting weird as soon as Spider-Whore showed up. You were with him all night, and it's lasted all night. Paints a pretty clear picture to me.”  
“That's _preposterous!_ ” Alastor boomed, coming the closest to unnerved that he'd felt in decades. Even his smile was diminished considerably, even if it was still there. “I made myself _very_ clear to Angel Dust that I do _not_ want what he wants from me! I haven't even the slightest attraction to him in that manner!”  
“Uh huh,” Husk rumbled, not looking up as Alastor began to ramble.   
“I mean, look at him! What appeal is there for me? He can be incredibly irritating, extremely immature, he's more obsessed with sexual favours than a drug addict, and that's not even mentioning that he _is_ an addict! What interest would I have in someone like that?”  
“Don't look at me, I'm just sayin' what I see,” the cat shrugged. “All I know is that _you_ made an effort to dress smart, _you_ took him out to dinner and now you're freakin' out over the fact ya got pecked. It's pretty fuckin' funny actually, hehe!”

Alastor swallowed, his brow scowling almost childishly in refusal to acknowledge what Husk was chuckling about. There was simply no way in Hell it was correct. Angel was like a polar opposite to him in every single virtue he possessed, if one could even count such an unhealthy fixation on reproduction as a virtue. It simply wasn't true!  
But... if it wasn't true, that wouldn't explain what he'd done. Why he'd gone out of his way to comfort Angel the first time, why he'd gone out of his way for dinner _this_ time. And why he was still thinking about that soft kiss gracing him like the spider's namesake.  
Alastor grunted, taking another long drink to nearly finish the thing. He knew that he wouldn't find answers at the bottom of a glass, but he could least give it a damn good try. Maybe try and exorcise these awful feelings from within him while he was at it. He was well aware of the irony of thinking that. He _didn't_ reciprocate Angel's affections before, he certainly didn't now.

So why was he still thinking of how that dress looked as the spider had walked away...?


	4. Promised Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentino is a man of his word. He promised that Angel would not get away with his stunt, nor would he ever let something he owned show him up like that again. Even if he had to make sure the lesson was hard learned in more than a few ways.
> 
> Happy Addict video release day, everyone.
> 
> (Warning for implied sexual assault.)

Angel was holding his breath. Or maybe it was more like he felt he _couldn't_ breathe.

He was standing in Valentino's office, the high rise tower of the Studio. And he felt incredibly small. Miniscule. Whatever sense of ego or bravery he had on the outside or on camera in his films was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of apprehension. He wanted to turn around, walk out and forget he was ever there, but his feet wouldn't move. Valentino's sheer presence was keeping him rooted to the floor.  
He knew he had to face the music eventually, especially after what happened some nights ago at the Red Club. Valentino had promised that he wouldn't walk away from that evening unpunished and try as he may have done to stay away from the Studio, Angel was always compelled to come back. Like he was being drawn in through a force he couldn't control. His contract.  
The spider's gloves tensed and squeaked from his clenched fists, his eyes focused on a spot in the floor just above the points of his high heels. The moth pimp had yet to say a word. That was the worst thing, the anxiety about what was going to happen next, and knowing whatever would come to pass was his fault.

The larger demon finally sighed, having been staring out the window away from his prized star after they'd walked into his office in silence. Of course, Valentino already knew where he'd been for the last few weeks. Staying in that idiotic hotel belonging to Lucifer's girl. Getting in trouble while breaking his curfew of staying in the Studio. And now trying to bump uglies with the fucking _Radio Demon_ of all people. He almost wanted to hear what feeble excuses the spider could muster up to explain his disobedience.  
Angel was practically shaking now. He could sense that Valentino wasn't happy, his pimp rotating to face him unnaturally smoothly with feet obscured by his thick red coat. The overlord slowly approached the spider, his voice slick and sugary sweet as he bent forward at the hip to loom over what he owned.  
  
“Angel. You know that we have rules to follow in our profession. More so when you work for me. You know that, don't you?”  
Angel flinched as Valentino cast a shadow over his face.  
“I know, but-”  
“ _Don't you?_ ” the demon interrupted with a burst of volume.  
“Yes, Mista Valentino,” Angel blurted back quickly, lowering his head almost shamefully. The Studio owner grunted, standing upright with his hands behind his back.  
“And you also know that I expect you to follow these rules, as agreed upon in your contract. Don't you?”  
“Yes, Mista Valentino...”

The moth fell silent again, watching Angel begin to squirm in place. The spider's entire body looked like it wanted to curl in on itself and disappear. The overlord would almost be taking pleasure in the act of witnessing it if he wasn't so furious with his misbehaving slut.  
“But, Angel Cakes... if it's true that you know this, then why would you think it was acceptable to embarrass me as severely as you have been doing as of late?”  
“I can explain! Just let me-”  
“Let's start at the beginning,” Valentino interrupted, leaning in close enough to almost taste his prize's fear. “How do you think it makes me feel when I see a proud little fuck bragging about screwingyou in the back seat of his car on his social feeds, but I have yet to see a _cent_ of the money you owe me from doing it?”  
“I was tryin' to get the money back to ya when-”  
“And how do you think it makes me look when I see you're street brawling with a bimbo that the _entire media_ has their eyes on after getting involved with some shitty passion project of _Lucifer's_ spawn!?”  
Angel cringed, wincing as his owner's voice pierced his skull.  
“I was just helpin' out a-”  
“And worst of all... you've been trying to get into bed with the _Radio Demon,_ haven't you?”

Angel's voice failed. That familiar flustering heat of his crush on said Radio Demon flared up in his face for a passing moment, conflicting memories of rejection and then being taken out on that date causing his cheeks to turn darker for a passing moment. Unfortunately, that emotionally weak reaction was all the evidence Valentino needed to prove his accusation.  
“I fucking _knew_ it. Trying to seduce him into acting like some smitten bodyguard for you? To embarrass me in front of the most _powerful_ of Hell's elite, eh?! Is that what you were trying to do?!”  
“No!” Angel protested, shaking his head and raising his hands up. “I would never-”  
“ _ **SHUT UP!**_ ”

The overlord bore his glinting fangs as he suddenly hooked his claws around Angel's neck in a move too quick to follow. The spider tried and failed to suppress the urge to whine pathetically as the pressure dug into his fur.  
“I don't know who you think you are, spreading your legs for him to pull that stunt off, but do you think you can humiliate me like that after everything I've done for you? After I gave you _everything_ you ever wanted?! The money, the clients, all the sex you craved and the freedom to be who you wanted to be, all _**thrown back in my face?!**_ _”  
_Angel winced as he was tossed down to the ground, the words stinging hard with the truth. He couldn't argue against it. Valentino had given him everything that he was, a chance to relish the thrill of making patrons feel good, being able to flaunt his body and express who he really was after a mortal life of always having to hide himself away.  
But it came with a price. A price of turning something that he used to love into nothing more than a means to an end to live down here. A price of being unquestionably obedient and subjected to all of this when he broke the rules.

“Val, I swear, I never meant to do any o' that!” he protested, trying to brave a smile. “I-I'm still yer best whore! I'm yer good boy, right...? I only wanna please ya...”  
“I want you to do as you're told, you little _bitch_ , not whore yourself out to one of my enemies or hide away in some pathetic rehab scheme,” snapped the moth, clutching at Angel's arms hard enough to cut into the sleeves of his clothes. “Yet you did all of that and more, instead of your _fucking_ job! You know the rules. You do _what_ I want, _when_ I want, and you don't ask questions!”  
“Yer right! I fucked up, okay? I did a lot o' shit wrong!” the star pleaded. “But I'll make it up to ya! I'll be good! I'm sorry, alright? I'm really sorry! Please! I-”

Valentino responded with a swift slap across Angel's face, shutting the spider up mid-sentence as he yelped like a hurt dog. The star hissed through his teeth, staring back at his employer in shock as he pressed one of his hands to his stinging cheek. The larger demon flexed his pointed fingertips as he lowered that palm again. But it was gentle this time, like he was offering it out to lead Angel into a dance.  
“Oh, Angel... sweetie, baby, beautiful little starlet of mine. _Come here.”  
_The names were the ruse. The possibility of affection, the promise that he wasn't in trouble. That he meant something to the overlord of Hell more than just being the face of the Studio. Angel knew it was all a damn joke inside. It had been for decades, almost since when he had been first been taken into the business.  
But it was one he kept falling for. Because of that temptation for something he would ultimately never receive, that maybe Valentino actually loved him as much as he said he did. But it never turned out to be the truth. And he found out the hard way when the moth's claw suddenly balled into a fist, clenched around the collar of his jacket, and allowed another to sock him right in the stomach.

“You filthy little _**slut!!**_ ” Valentino roared, barely giving Angel a chance to stagger away before he reared back to aim another punch at his jaw. “How _dare_ you think you can show me up like that?! You think because _I_ took you in, you're more than just an object for the freaks down here who want to see your ass on camera? That the fame _I_ gave you means you have free reign to do what you want?!”  
“Val, wai-UGH!”  
The fist made contact, sending the spider spinning to the floor with a heavy thud.  
“ _ **NO!**_ You have a deal with _me!_ Not with the girl, not with that walking speaker! _Me!_ And I will _not_ let you break it so you can do whatever the fuck you feel like!” He sent a kick to Angel's chest, then another, and another.  
“Ngh! Argh! Oof!”  
“You should be _thankful_ I'm not sending you to the worst part of town until you're passed out in a puddle of your own mess to make up for this!!” He kept kicking, rolling his target over until the arachnid was a cowering ball at his feet. “Though I'm doubting _anyone_ would ever want you if this is how you treat people you claim to care about...”  
“S-Stop! Please, stop, I'm sorr-ARGH!”  
“ _ **SILENCE!**_ You! Are! _Mine!_ ” the boss roared, punctuating each word with another blow to his sides and his back. “And you will _**OBEY ME!”**_

With one final kick, Valentino sent Angel tumbling across the office like a discarded toy, the lithe demon's form sprawled out and limp. A weak wheezing noise managed to force its way past his lips, lines of red flowing from his mouth and across his bruised jaw.  
All he could feel was pain. His clothes ripped and torn. The taste of blood in his mouth. And those screaming accusations, pure anger lacing every insult. Valentino hadn't just been rough, he was ruthless. Even for a masochist, the spider was left reeling from how it felt.  
Angel forced himself up on trembling arms, stumbling and collapsing to the ground numerous times as he struggled to move. He began clawing his way along the shag rug floor, inching his way closer and closer to Valentino's boots.  
His hands made contact. And the sweet audible honey came back like a switch had been flipped. The gentleness in his employer's voice hiding the bitterness and hatred underneath.

“Aw, Angie... my sweetest little darling...” the moth cooed, kneeling down to the ground and gently cupping his star's cheek as they trembled against his palm. A thumb ran over it, smearing tears and make-up into the dense fur. “You know I hate doing this, forcing all this unpleasantness on my _favourite_ little spider. It just... makes my blood _boil_ thinking about you getting close to those people, you know? Ones like that Magne girl and the Radio Demon who'd only want you for their own gain. But you're more than that to me. You know that, don't you?”  
“...y-yes,” Angel spluttered, coughing a crimson spatter into the carpet. “Yes, Mista-”  
“Ah-ah, that's not right, honey. Who am I to you?”  
“...Daddy.”  
“And what do you say to Daddy when you've been misbehaving?”  
“...I'm sorry, Daddy.”  
“That's right...” Valentino chuckled darkly, letting out a content sigh at making himself clear. “You've always been my best, haven't you? My beautiful, _sexy_ little thing. Come to me, sugar. Come with me.”

Angel obeyed without a word, his expression dejected and hollow as he was dragged up to his feet to stand meekly before his boss. Valentino snaked his multiple arms around the lithe demon's body, keeping a firm hold as he pulled his property backwards. The two demons stepped in tandem, until the moth was sat in his large luxurious chair and Angel had been tugged down to sit in his lap.  
Valentino's hands started to move, exploring every curve and shape of his most precious asset without a word. But it was more than just rough handling. Clutching, clawing, sliding below his waist. Rough and in all the wrong places. Angel felt a palm slap hard on his backside and squeeze it just as roughly through his skirt. It made him feel sick.  
“You promise you're going to make it up to me, baby?”  
And yet he didn't stop it. He couldn't if he tried. And somewhere inside him, he didn't want to. Angel reaffirmed his straddling stance, his face almost blank.

“Yes, Daddy.”

* * *

At this time of night, Husk wasn't expecting anything to grab his attention away from the bottle pressed to his lips. Barely months into this fool's errand at the hands of Alastor and he was already having to restrain himself from raiding more alcohol from the stores. Running empty was less then desirable when things were this boring.  
It was already well past the midnight hour, usually a prime time for the demons of Pentagram City to indulge in the same sins that had sent them to the underworld in the first place. But the Hazbin Hotel had no such activity. The residents of the hotel's winding corridors had long since departed to their rooms upstairs and all was quiet, save for the scuttling of Niffty scouring the rest of the titanic building for mess than needed to be cleaned up. At least, according to her.  
Husk didn't even know if they were _supposed_ to be open for patrons right now, nor did he really care. Boring or not, if it let him drink in peace, he could handle things being dead for the moment. Just so long as Alastor and his cheap tricks didn't come to bother him while he was simply aiming to get drunk enough to slip into an easy sleep.

At least, that was the plan until the front doors flew open with a crash against the wall. Husk winced as the ambience and warm night air of the City gust in for only the briefest moment before the doors snapped shut with just as much force. His ears perked at the noise, casting a sideways glance to whoever was responsible.  
Thankfully, it turned out to be someone who already had a room at the hotel, which meant less work for him getting a key and showing them around and all that crap. But the cat demon found himself mentally cursing as he laid his bottle down on the counter and he realised who it was. Just perfect.

Angel had returned from a sojourn into the night, the effeminate spider having left only a short while after the group dinner that evening. If Husk had to guess, it was to go hooking again or whatever crazy nonsense a porn star got up to. The cat demon had seen enough posters in shady streets to get the idea. Well, as shady as streets in Hell got.  
But as said porn star entered, the bartender sensed something was very amiss. People with Angel's sense of self-importance didn't barge in places like this unless they were escaping a fan mob. And that definitely not the case this early in the morning. His eyes followed the late arrival's path leading straight to the bar.

Instead of the sultry and boastful aura he usually presented, Angel was stomping across the lobby towards Husk's bar like a demon possessed. His face was screwed up into the hardest scowl, his jaws clenched, his multiple limbs down by his side and tightened into fists. Something had really pissed the spider off and who knew what that could be.  
It was then that the bartender saw Angel didn't look right in other ways too. His white locks of hair were a tangled mess, his suit was creased and even torn around his arms, lapel and skirt. His bow-tie was crooked and the spider's usually perfect make up had become messy and stained in his fur. His eyes were wet and he was huffing under his breath pretty bad.  
And that was saying nothing about the marks which looked suspiciously like blood.

Yeesh. Husk had been expecting more offers of quickies out back up until that point. Instead, rather than explain his foul mood, Angel slammed his upper arms down onto the counter while his lower set folded, glaring at the bartender before finally pointing to a rather large bottle of Devil Springs Vodka after a long pause.  
“The whole bottle. _Now._ ”  
“Not even a sex joke, huh?” Husk tutted, using the feathers of his long tail to flip the bottle down from its perch and catch it like it was nothing, sliding it along the counter to Angel's waiting hands. “You sure the Princess'd approve of you divin' into stuff this heavy?”  
The spider didn't give him a response, turning his eyes away with another huff of breath as he pulled the cork off the bottle. Husk's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Hell of a late hour to be hitting booze this hard, but he wasn't really one to talk given what his night had been taken up by.

He took another look over Angel to assess the damage. He knew the whore liked the rough stuff in his films, not that Husk would admit he'd ever seen any... but even that wouldn't explain the tearing of clothes and potential injuries. It was like he'd been attacked or something.  
“You look like shit,” Husk murmured, taking a swig of his poison of choice to try and start a conversation. Angel stayed silent as he did the same, but kept going when the cat demon stopped. Husk had to pause and stare when the spider took more than a few hearty chugs straight, the effeminate demon slamming the container down hard enough to almost crack the glass with a loud gasp.  
“Guess ya'd know what _that_ looks like...” he finally grumbled back, sniffing hard as he reached inside the pockets of his ruined clothes with an obvious tremble in his limbs. He produced a number of bags filled with white powder. It was obvious what they were.

Husk shrugged off the attempted insult, but kept his eye on the blatant display of both drugs and drink. He wasn't one to typically ask questions about people's affairs, but for Angel to go so suddenly from flirty to furious admittedly left him wondering what had killed the spider's bravado and lustful persona.  
“One of your clients get a bit too handsy or somethin'?”  
“Why the fuck do you care?!” Angel barked back defensively.  
“I don't,” Husk answered honestly, but raised his hands to show he wasn't trying to pry too hard. “I just ain't seen you this grumpy. And none of that stuff is gonna sit well with the whole point of you bein' in this joint.”  
“Princess Gumdrop can suck a fat one far as I care. Now, _shut up.”_

Angel laid the bags out in a row to check their condition in the quiet, leaning in with a keen stare creasing his face to make sure he hadn't been ripped off like last time. Husk stayed back, rolling his drink in his hand idly. This was either the precursor to a very bad relapse or one already in progress. Part of him felt he should be trying to stop it for the sake of his own job at the hotel, the other really didn't want to get involved. He tried a compromise of observation.  
“No amount of liquor I got back here'll stop you from bein' in this sorry state. Neither will any of that powder.”  
“Shove it up yer hole, _bitch!_ ” the star snapped, his eyes still focused intently on weighing each bag of powder to double check his 'order' was correct. “Believe me, got a lotta experience with that to know it feels pretty _damn_ good.”

Husk huffed with a hard scowl as Angel took another few swallows of the vodka like a parched man in a desert before he pushed himself away from the counter. With both narcotics and the bottle in hand, the bartender watched with his head resting in his claw as the spider started to saunter away, heading to the main staircase and the flights of rooms upstairs. He wasn't even stumbling despite how much strong drink he'd just gulped down like water. A few moments later, he was gone.  
Husk rolled his eyes again, stifling a yawn as he glanced up at the clock. So much for trying to sort that one out, but it didn't really matter. He wasn't supposed to be helping the Hotel's guests with their problems and he briefly wondered if he should retire as well given the time. But the other side of him demanded another drink and there was only one clear winner as green glass touched his mouth again.  
“Eh... god damn hookers.”  
“What about them? Never took you for one to need their company, Husker.”

Husk's fur stood on end with a noticeable flinch as Alastor's voice sounded off behind him. He growled, watching as the Radio Demon appeared from the shadows of the stores behind the bar with his usual smug grin spread wide across his face. The bartender grunted, the deer sitting down in front of him on the other side of the counter like a customer.  
“Do you always have to make everything a way to mess with people? What the fuck were you doing appearin' back there?!”  
“I'd call it a bad habit if I wasn't so fond of it,” Alastor answered with a roll of his shoulders, rapping the sharp points of his gloves against the counter. “I was merely returning from a stroll when I heard some rather intense voices! And you know I like to find the source of any 'signals' I pick up.”  
“Well, you're too late,” growled Husk, reaching for his bottle and taking another drink. “You just missed the stroppy little shit.”  
“Who?”  
“Who do you think? Your _boyfriend_.”

Alastor's brow lowered and his hands visibly tensed up with a burst of white noise accompanying a prickling of his ears. He should've known he'd be subjected to that sort of teasing again, he just never thought Husker would continue be this immature about it.  
Ever since that night he'd taken Angel to the Red Club, he'd come to expect such childish jabs. Accusations of Angel being his partner or a... “lover”, just because he'd tried to be nice to him for a change. He _hated_ that comparison, almost angry that it annoyed him so badly. The deer cleared his throat, adjusting the fit of his bow-tie.  
“I told you _very_ clearly that I do _not_ -”  
“Yeah, yeah, say what you like. I ain't in the mood to argue about it,” Husk mumbled. “Point is, it was him. Stormin' in here like a brat and then marching off with a bottle and bags of somethin'. Looked pretty terrible if you ask me.”  
“You've always found Angel's sense of fashion to be terrible, my friend. Perhaps you could be more specific?”  
  
Husk raised a brow, his drink halfway to his mouth. Alastor didn't seem annoyed any more, but he didn't seem any less tense in his posture at hearing that. If anything, he looked even more so with how he'd leaned in slightly. Like he was... concerned?  
Since when was Alastor ever _concerned_?  
The cat demon put it down to liquor impairing his judgement on reading faces again. But there was a reason he'd kept saying all these ribbing comments. He knew Alastor cared at least a little, more than he'd ever admit.  
“Like I said, terrible. Looked like he'd been attacked or got in a fight or whatever.”

“Well, I'm sure the fellow can hold a battle on his own, bruised or no,” the Radio Demon reasoned, even despite his continuous fidgeting with the fit of his coat. “I did see the picture show where he proved it, all those months ago.”  
“No, Al, I mean he was _really_ messed up. He wasn't just roughed around a bit, it was like he'd been...”  
Husk fell quiet. He hadn't actually tried to think of what it looked like until now. But realising what it reminded him of, and the implications of that realisation, made him feel a little woozy. He grunted to dismiss his attempts to speak, taking a final swig from his drink. And that was enough to stir Alastor into those awful sensations once again.

The Radio Demon pressed one of his hands against his chest, feeling his heart thrum against his ribs as the feeling seemed to spread to the pit of his stomach. It was almost like what little he could remember of... anxiety? He hadn't experienced that properly since he first arrived in Hell. Yet it was another unpleasant motion within his body that he thought he wasn't capable of feeling. And yet again tied to Angel.  
Alastor _had_ wondered where the arachnid had disappeared to after the evening meal today. He'd left so quickly that not even Charlie or Vaggie had noticed until much later. And now Husk was saying he had returned at this hour, looking very much like he'd been subjected to something nasty? After the altercation with the filthy Studio owner at the Club, that didn't sit right with him at all.

The deer looked over his shoulder towards the stairs, his smile threatening to fall further the more he thought about it. Maybe he should go and check...

* * *

Angel took another gulp of alcohol as he finally reached the floor his room was on. Sometimes he'd forgotten how Alastor had really done a number on this place, the halls not even looking remotely familiar now they were coated in red velvet and adornments straight out of the thirties. Or so he guessed, he wasn't paying attention. Didn't want to.  
The spider messed around with the key to his door until he stumbled inside, only now feeling the buzz from the vodka hit his brain in a wave of intense dizziness. It passed too quickly. It always did now. It still wasn't enough. He kicked the door shut with his heel, not even bothering with the lock before tossing his powder onto his dressing table for later.  
Isolated, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the Hotel, Angel cringed as the emotional wall threatened to break again. He felt his eyes water and growled hard through clenched teeth as he clutched at the back of his head in anger at why he was being so weak again. He swallowed hard, pushing the welling feeling down inside him through sheer willpower. And another drink of vodka.  
  
He gasped for air after a few gulps, closing his eyes as he clutched the bottle close to his chest. Idiot. Stupid _fucking_ idiot. First rule of the job, the very first clause in the contract. You _never_ try to pull the wool over Val's eyes, _never._ He'd known that for years, even decades ago when he'd gotten his start at the Studio.  
When the overlord had helped him find his feet in an afterlife of carnality, the demon had made the conditions clear. What was Angel expecting, trying to go back to Valentino after everything that had happened? The hooking, the turf war? The hotel's disastrous news piece and him staying there? Alastor...? The boss _already_ knew everything. And he didn't like it one bit.

Angel loosened his ruined suit jacket off of his shoulders, tossing the striped garment to the floor along with his gloves and boots as he walked towards his dressing table. Bare from the waist up, his stockings and lingerie were just as stretched and ripped as he sat in front of the mirror. Customary of Val going to town on him and making him feel sore sitting down. He looked at his reflection in the dim light of the surrounding bulbs.  
Husk was right. He _did_ look like shit. His eyeliner had smeared in blackened streaks over his face and he was still sniffing and trying to dry his eyes after what had happened. He was glad no one had seen him on the way back, only imagining how the press would have had a field day with the sight of Hell's most famous porn actor weeping through the streets. Pathetic.

He ran one of his hands through his mane of hair in some vain attempt to look somewhat presentable. It didn't help.  
“Keep it together, you fuckin' _hack!_ ” Angel growled in frustration. “You're a gangster, a hardcore _criminal,_ not some... tsh...!”  
The sentence escaped him as looked away from his reflection. Seeing himself like this just made him feel worse. He reached over to a music player on his left and switched it on, cranking the volume up as high as it allowed to shut out the sounds of the city outside his window.  
He couldn't stand that noise. Something smooth and with a piano was better, the double bass coursing through him like a cold chill. Who cared if it woke anyone else up? He didn't.

He turned his attention to the real prize of the evening. The last fruits of whatever cash he had left, what little there was after forking over his earnings from the streets to the boss. He opened his drawers, pushing aside the catalogue of his more intimate objects in a frantic scurry to get his rolling papers and a lighter. He didn't feel like being clear-headed any longer.  
The spider rolled and lit his poison in a set of fluid motions, as he'd done a thousand times before. PCP. His namesake. The dust that had killed him topside. He inhaled the lit joint, taking in a drag. His body shivered as the rush from the drug hit him, his other hands either clutching at the desk or at his own chest from how intense it felt.  
“Aw, f-fuck...” he cursed, letting out a strained sigh as he slumped against the table to let the high consume him, to drown away the underworld.  
  
Even as much as he had been allowed a new lease on his afterlife, to finally be who he had wanted to after the intolerance of topside, there were moments like this where he felt he'd done nothing but more mistakes. That he'd been involved with the wrong people down here, all for the sake of trying to find someone like him. Embarrassing himself in front of his crush and embarrassing his employer for having one.  
The spider could still hear the boss' voice in his head as the rising disassociation of the PCP did little to shut the memory out. The calm tone when he first walked in, the affectionate pet names, the lulling into a false sense of security. Before the rage came out. Before the violence.  
Angel took another drag from his joint, even harder than before as another wave of euphoric tingles shuddered through his body. Shut out the memory. Bury it. The spider arched his back, gasping and moaning like he was on camera in one of his films as he stumbled out of his chair towards his bed.

His lower hand clutched at another bag of dust as he fell onto the mattress, hissing through his clenched fangs at being able to lose himself. He had to, needed to, but... it wasn't enough. He was certain he was taking the same dose that had ended his mortal coil now and yet he was only just managing to get the calming elation of the first few times he'd ever used.  
Hell fucking sucked.  
He just wanted to forget today. Val had trusted him to uphold his side of the bargain, and he had betrayed that trust. As he said, the boss only wanted him to be safe. Away from people who wouldn't treat him right. People outside of the Studio would just use him, just like Charlie seeing him as a poster boy for this dump. That was right... wasn't it?

And yet it couldn't be. Not when Angel could see _him,_ his face when he closed his eyes. The broad grin, the gentleman attitude, the feelings that gorgeous man had blossomed within him unlike how so many others had tried and failed to do. How could what Valentino have said be true when Alastor had shown care for him just because he _wanted_ to?  
Alastor said he was fond of him. Alastor said he _liked_ him. Even if it didn't go as far as Angel wished it could, that was proof the moth was wrong. It had to be.  
“Alastor... mmph...”

Angel closed his eyes, his hands running through the fur on his chest in slow deliberate circles to exacerbate the lingering sting from Valentino's retaliation. He started grinning madly in his high, each jab of pain when he touched a bruise sending him into convulsions of pleasure.  
His mind began to fantasise. That it wasn't Valentino's claws leaving marks, but Alastor's. That the pain around his neck wasn't from being choked, but from being love bitten by the Radio Demon's fangs. That Alastor _hadn't_ laughed in his face and dismissed him like the cheap whore he really was.  
But that he'd said yes instead. That he'd been swept away from the shit at the Studio, into something that felt better, so intimate and loving, so...

Fake.

Even as Angel started to laugh to himself over the music, the sound of it was hollow. He felt his eyes were still wet and the emotions to explain why were still strong even with the drug starting to overwhelm his mind. The memory of being rejected came back clearly than anything. Of Alastor turning him down. Howling with laughter at him, almost horrified at nearly being kissed by a harlot.  
With only his willpower stopping his tears from streaking over his face, Angel could only wonder if Valentino was right after all as the world blurred around him.

Maybe no one really wanted him.

* * *

Charlie was roused from her slumber when she felt the vibrations running through her bed. The first thing she could make out clearly as she strained to open her eyes was a thumping. Rhythmic and regular, like the dulled beats of music from inside a club on the strip. She wasn't far off the truth.  
She yawned, blinking a few times as she attempt to sit up in bed. The young demoness tugged her red nightgown close to her body as a chill seized her. She hated having to leave that source of comfort. It was only when she felt a movement to her left that she properly sat up.  
“Vaggie...?” Charlie slurred, looking behind to see her girlfriend beside her. The moth demon had an annoyed look on her face, arms folded and eyes staring intently at the floor in front of their bed. The source of the pulsing noise.

“I knew he'd do this again...” Vaggie grumbled, her aura flaring and making her hair stand on end. “It's _two in the damn morning!_ Does he really have so little regard for others that he-”  
“Vaggie, relax...” Charlie assured her, using the touch of her hand on her fellow demon's wrist to keep her temper under control. “It just means he's come back home, right? I was a little worried when he just up and left after Al made us all dinner.”  
“ _Please_ don't refer to that monster by a nickname...” her partner insisted, flinching as a particularly powerful bass pluck thudded against her ears and returned them to the topic at hand. Charlie tilted her head, tightening her hold on Vaggie as if to encourage her lover to speak her mind.

“What is it?”  
“...look, hon. I have to ask. Why are we still putting up with Angel at this point? I know you've said you don't want to give up on people who come to the hotel, but this is getting ridiculous!”  
“Vaggie, that isn't fair,” Charlie frowned. “He's got a lot of issues to work through.”  
“I know, but that's the problem! He doesn't _want_ to work through them!” stated Vaggie. “Look at his track record. His stupid fighting nearly ruined the hotel, he _pretended_ to go clean just so he could use us a rent-free apartment and he hasn't even made an _attempt_ to redeem himself unless we grease his wheels in a deal! Like the other day?”  
“Look, Angel just needs... time,” the heiress tried to argue. “Going cold turkey wasn't the best way for us to play it. We just need to focus on _encouraging_ him to make better choices instead of stopping him from making them outright. He'll make the effort! Like he did when Al took him out as a reward!”

Vaggie opened her mouth to protest but then stopped herself. She sighed at Charlie's endless optimism for this project of theirs, unable to hide the faint smile on her lips as she relaxed her posture. She didn't know where the daughter of Lucifer got it from, but it was admirable to say the least. And wholesome enough to earn her support and make it a reality.  
But Vaggie also knew that Angel was one of the hardest cases for her partner to take on as the hotel's first patron. His reputation had been cemented in Hell for decades before she'd arrived here and habits that had stuck around that long were going to be difficult to break. Even more so with the Radio Demon's interference making it too easy for the indulgences to be... well, indulged in.  
Another thump of bass made the moth demon's eye twitch in annoyance, the mental image of the girly spider dancing around his room to purposely aggravate his neighbours causing that burning rage of hers to build in the pit of her stomach.  
  
“ _Pedazo de mierda..._ ” she cursed, pulling her grey locks down tight over her head to act as some sort of muffler to the noise this early in the day. Charlie smiled encouragingly, though did find herself wincing a little as particularly powerful sub frequencies were starting to rattle some of the pictures hanging on the wall.  
“Look, I'll go talk to him,” she announced, sliding out of bed in a fluid moment as she brushed her blond hair over her shoulders and out of her eyes.  
“Charlie, wait!” Vaggie interrupted, reaching out to her partner with a worried look creasing her features. “If he's faked being clean, who knows what he's doing in there! What if he's off his head on something? Or with some _customer?!_ Or-”  
“It'll be fine, Vaggie, honest! Remember what Dad told me? 'Never take shit-'”  
“'From other demons', I know. But Angel is... I mean, he's... ugh!”  
“I promise, I'll be OK,” Charlie swore, turning around to briefly press her lips to Vaggie's cheek. “You've got my back, right?”  
“Of course,” the moth demon replied immediately, almost as if it were a reflex.  
  
The heiress smiled and released herself from her girlfriend's hold, walking to the door. If she was going to prove her philosophy right, she could at least begin by starting fresh with their very first patient. Or at least, that was the plan before a distinct rapping against the door caught her attention before she had a chance to open it.  
Charlie blinked in surprise, looking over her shoulder to Vaggie as if for some sort of advice on what to do next. Her partner shrugged weakly and batted a hand towards the solicitor, groaning with another huff as she covered her head with a pillow to shut out the noise.  
Charlie mirrored her, turning back towards the entrance to her room and pulling the door open. A burst of audience cheering greeted her ears and made her wince in surprise.

“Ah, Charlotte, my dear! Glad to see you're still awake!” Alastor beamed, his cane pressed firmly between his feet with both hands holding onto the microphone. “I hope I'm not interrupting anything between you two ladies?”  
“Uh, no Al, we're all good!” Charlie insisted, giving a thumbs up his way to assure him that he hadn't. Though her expression faltered when she heard Vaggie groan at recognising the deer's voice, the Princess cleared her throat and reaffirmed her position. “C-Can we help you?”  
“Actually, I have come to ask you much the same question!” Alastor replied, bowing his head towards her. “I'm sure you can hear the _appalling_ racket coming from our one and only Angel Dust's chambers, so I assumed you would be on your way to 'calm the patient', as it were.”  
“That was the plan,” Charlie nodded. “I didn't realise he'd been out so late, so I just wanted to check on him now he's home.”  
“Then allow me to act as your reinforcement! Knowing how volatile our spider friend is, it would only be fitting to aid my business partner in getting him under control, yes? After all, I did promise I would help in keeping the hotel's name appropriately pristine!”

Charlie's brow tweaked into one of light suspicion. Alastor offering to help her wasn't the issue, but it was the way that it had been so perfectly timed to what she assumed was Angel having a tantrum. Alastor had shown such little interest in helping _any_ patron of the hotel, yet alone someone who was as much of a polar opposite to him as Angel was. And that wasn't mentioning how she could hear him tapping his foot on the floor. Like he was impatient...  
Still, the Radio Demon had a point. Angel's stubbornness was almost legendary at this point and she would take any aid that she could in trying to tame that beast. She finally nodded her head in agreement and stepped out into the hallway.  
“Better waste no time then, right? Come on, Al!”  
  
Alastor watched Charlie take off ahead of him toward the elevators, smirking to himself at her boundless energy to do 'good' despite the circumstances of where they all resided. Yet, as he set off at his own pace to follow her, he found his smile faltering again with his true reasons for wanting to tag along.  
  
That for the first time in decades, he felt what he could only call 'worry'.


	5. Impasse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angel is sick of being left in the dark, confused by everything about the Radio Demon's actions when it came to them. He needs answers. And Alastor does not want to give them.

Charlie could feel each beat of music rumbling beneath her bare feet as she got closer with Alastor in tow. In a way, it was a good thing the hotel still wasn't at full capacity for guests or who knows how many complaints the front desk would be getting from the racket.  
As she approached the adult star's chamber, she blinked in surprise at seeing it was slightly ajar. That alone was strange. Angel always locked it when he was in there, something to make sure that his 'wardens' wouldn't be able to pry into whatever he did when he was on his lonesome. Why would he not do so now?  
Charlie felt a brief hesitation to go inside, wanting to be respectful even to someone like Angel who showed her little respect in return. But even small changes to the spider's behaviour needed to be taken note of if she was going to help him.

“Alright, Al,” said Charlie in a raised voice, having to speak up somewhat to be heard over the volume of music. “I'll head in and see if I can work something out with him. Then we'll give your idea a shot too!”  
“Sounds rather agreeable to me!”   
“Oh, could you stay here for when or if I need your help? He might not like two people sticking their noses in...”  
“I shall be ready, my dear. I'll be listening for your word,” the deer bowed, taking a firm stance at the threshold like a sentry as if to make sure that nothing would get in the way. He cleared his throat, once again adjusting the collar of his clothes, tapping his foot insistently on the ground. Charlie noticed.  
“Are _you_ okay, Alastor?”  
“Hm? Oh, in top shape, Charlotte!” he blurted back, his eyes briefly glowing as he motioned his head towards the door. “I believe your patient requires more attention than I, however!”  
Charlie didn't believe him when he said that. Something about his fidgeting was _very_ unlike the Alastor she knew. But the details of whatever was making him act strangely could wait. Right now, she had her patron to attend to.  
  


* * *

Charlie's eyes widened in shock as she pushed open the door, the music suddenly blasting upwards in volume now the final block on it had been taken away. The room was in shambles. Remnants of white powder were trailing across the floor from Angel's dressing table, followed in its wake by pieces of white and pink fabric that had fluttered down like confetti.   
The tattered suit jacket at the foot of the bed was the likely source, obvious tears and loose stitching decorating the thing like it had been savaged. Four pink gloves and two high heeled boots were in a pile next to it, like they'd been thrown there without a care in a the world.  
But on the bed itself was the culprit. Angel was laid on his back, sprawled on top of his blankets and clad only from the waist down in his frilly undergarments and thigh high stockings. One of his arms was hanging loosely in the air with a lit roll in it, dancing to and fro in time with the music as a trail of smoke swirled in circles above his head. His other hands were either gripping the bed or raking through his fur, an exhale disrupting the wispy trail.

Charlie bit her lower lip as she moved towards the blaring speaker on the desk. She didn't think Angel had even noticed her come in, the spider too zoned out on his high to see. She reached for the volume dial and yanked it right down so that it was no longer deafening her, hearing a brief twitch of radio static crackling through the device.  
A sign that Alastor was listening in. Good.  
The sudden squashing of the piano caused Angel to twitch, but still unmoving from his sprawl. His fluffy chest was rising and falling rather rapidly, probably because of the narcotics flooding his system. Charlie frowned at the sight, finding it almost sad at how different the demon looked compared to the cocky and sensual attitude she knew.  
And then she heard it. The sound of sniffling and shaken breaths. Like her patron was struggling to keep himself in check even despite attempting to space out on the drug that sent him to Hell in the first place. She knew the dangers of that stuff from seeing other demons, how it could make them particularly aggressive or emotional, but her empathy was overriding caution. She couldn't let him stay like this if she wanted to help.  
  
“Uh... Angel?”  
Charlie's question snapped the spider out of his stupor as he bolted upright, using one of his claws to rub at his flared open eyes with a loud sniff tp quickly contain the cracks in his emotions. He exhaled loudly one last time before he leaned back on his elbows. His head fell forward, mane of hair falling in front of his eyes as he grinned a flash of teeth at the 'intruder'.  
“Heh... come on, babe, don't ya know it's rude to walk in on a gal when she's half naked?” he growled, letting out a chuckle. It sounded incredibly forced.  
“I... was just worried where you were all night and, uh...” Charlie started, her eye drawn to the narcotic in his hand. “What you were doing...”  
“Lil' ol' me? Oh, I'm just friggin' myself to the _Mamma Mia_ soundtrack. What do you _think_ I'm doin'?!”

Charlie flinched at the angry outburst, but simply closed her eyes and kept her cool. Just remember, it was the drug talking, not Angel. She simply nodded until her eyes met his again, but found herself blinking at what she saw. The star's snarling face had both gone only moments after appearing.   
In its place was an expression that looked as messy and confused as he was, his gaze wandering into the distance as his thoughts were spirited away by the PCP. The demoness saw the black lines and smudged mascara around his wet eyes and felt a pang of worry in her chest.   
Had Angel been... crying?

“How are you feeling?”  
“Never better,” came the all too quick answer, the spider taking another long drag from his joint as another hard tremble ran down his back with a low groan. It really _wasn't_ as potent as he remembered. Shit. “Just... takin' the edge off...”  
“And... what do you need to take off the edge from?” Charlie asked, cautiously sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands in her lap as if to show she wasn't going to do anything. The spider didn't seem convinced.  
“Why do _you_ give a fuck 'bout it?” Angel retorted, his brow lowering in a scowl. He raked a claw through his hair as another fidgeted with a stocking strap.  
“I'm worried about you,” the demoness answered honestly, her face determined to prove she was being truthful. “I don't think I've ever seen you like this before.”  
“Hah! You should see me at the after-shoot parties, babe. Lotsa drinks, drugs, men with real big-”  
“Angel, _please,_ ” Charlie interrupted. “I'm not trying to ask as a warden or... whatever you think I am in this place. I'm... I'm asking as a friend.”

The star's eyes scowled even harder, causing Charlie to reel back with a cringe. She hadn't been expecting that.  
“We _ain't_ friends,” he said bluntly. “Yer a means to crash some place when the boss ain't in the mood. That's _it._ ”   
The demoness frowned at the barbed words with a pursing of her lips. And the face she made suddenly made Angel feel a sting of regret within himself. His own softened, glare gone as he sat up on the bed properly. Crap. Shouldn't have said that.

The room went silent, save for the faint static on the stereo speaker still playing music quietly. Angel's attention twitched towards it. That interference sounded like... no, probably not.   
He took another inhale of his slowly dwindling supply of substances, rubbing at one of his teary eyes while Charlie stayed sat next to him without a word. He glanced at her. She was still here, even after what he'd said. Just like how she'd tried to assume the best even after the incident with the turf war. The spider opened his mouth to speak, but the same hesitation that stopped him then stopped him now.   
He huffed in frustration at being unable to let go of his need to be seen in a credible way, to maintain his persona as a cool and collected superstar rather than speak openly about bullshit emotions. Given the state of him now, he didn't feel it was appropriate.  
“So, your boss...” Charlie finally said, taking the initiative for him. “It's Valentino, right?”  
“...yeah,” Angel mumbled, looking at the floor. Of course she'd know about Val. Her father was the head honcho of the entirety of Hell.  
“And you saw him tonight.”

The spider blinked, pink irises meeting hers as Charlie turned to him. Her face seemed determined, like she wasn't going to allow him to shrug her off until she got the bottom of why he looked like he'd been through a meat grinder.  
“Pft...”  
“Did you?” Charlie asked.   
“...ugh... a'right, yeah! But it was just business!” Angel insisted with a roll of his eyes. “I owe him money. A _lot_ o' money. Even with ya helpin' that one time, I just didn't have time to get enough an' it's been a few weeks an'... an' I...”  
“Angel,” Charlie said, stopping him from stumbling over his words any longer. “What did he do to you?”  
The question stopped the spider dead in his tracks. He looked at the now stubby joint in his hands, flicking the ashen butt to the floor with a sudden growl of irritation. He may have been trying to fool himself before, that what the boss did was somehow warranted, but Charlie's presence was keeping the truth crystal clear.  
“What do ya think he did? He beat the _shit_ outta me.”

Charlie winced at the mental image of such a thing. She had seen how powerful Angel could be in the right circumstances, watching how he had effortlessly fought against Sir Pentious' Egg Bois with multiple firearms and a talent for being unpredictable. Yet Valentino had bested that without a fight?  
But what struck her as even worse than that was how there was so _little_ venom in how Angel explained it. It was almost casual, like it was just one of those things he had to deal with and _had_ dealt with before. How could he be so calm about being hurt?  
“Just because you didn't have money...?”  
“Part o' the contract,” he explained, his focus drifting off into outer space. “Ya do _what_ the boss wants, _how_ he wants it, or he can do what he wants to yer ass.”

The implications of that last part made Charlie's skin crawl in disgust when she remembered the torn clothing. She wasn't going to pry for details, using it instead to motivate herself into doing something to help Angel out. That couldn't stand.  
“I can talk to my father,” she suggested, even knowing in the back of her mind that Lucifer wouldn't listen. “I'll get him to stand Valentino down, maybe try and clear whatever you owe him. A fresh start!”  
“Heh... sorry, toots, but it don't work like that,” Angel laughed. Empty laughter. “Ya can't outrun Val unless he kicks it. An' overlords ain't gotta habit o' doin' that.”  
“But there has to be something we can do!”  
“ _ **Why?!**_ ” Angel suddenly snapped, flying into a rage from the narcotic. “What makes ya think _I'm_ worth any o' the fuckin' trouble I've caused? I lied to yer face, kid, you _and_ yer gal pal! I _pretended_ to play nice to get a free room an' almost shut the place down! Even then, I still got forced out to go hookin', get a _shit_ load of drugs, and act like some hardcore criminal... but ended up actin' like a brat an' a weak little pussy when I got found out! An' the only times I ever really tried to make a change? It was just to get shit I wanted, to try an' impress... people an'... _fuck!_ ”

Charlie cringed at her accidental provocation as Angel curled in on himself and clawed the back of his head with his upper arms. This side of him was something that no one in all of Hell would have seen, the insecurity brought about by a world that the spider thought treated him as at least a bit important, as cared for.   
And then there was the last part, the thing that had cut off his words. The fact that he'd been trying to make a good impression on “people”. That sounded the most personal of all, though she had no idea about who he could be talking about.  
But being granted the chance to witness this opening in his defences was only inspiring Charlie to try harder. To make Angel see that he wasn't some flake for Valentino to manipulate.

“Even though you did all that...” she started quietly. “You still came to us. I don't know if you ever believed in what I'm trying to do, but you still made the effort to come to the hotel.”  
“And whaddya know? I ain't changed at all,” the star growled, sniffing hard again as he relaxed into a sitting posture. “Why would ya still wanna help me?”  
“Because you're not just Valentino's _hooker_ , Angel!” Charlie shouted back, the sudden raise in volume actually shutting the spider up completely seeing her demonic heritage flare in her eyes. “You're a _person,_ not a thing for him to screw around with! And you're taking the flack for something that isn't your fault! You might not see it that way, but _no one_ should have to go through feeling like they're worthless.”

Angel's stern face disappeared, mouthing back her words to himself silently. He remembered someone else saying the same thing, back at the Club when Valentino had gotten involved.

_“Oh, I have no intention of “handling” Angel like you do at all. I'm actually treating him like a_ _ **person**_ _for one.”_  
  
He rubbed one of his bare upper arms, unsure of really what to say to that, not without coming across as a dick for the third time in a row to Charlie. The kid was trying her best despite his shitty behaviour, the star keeping quiet to at least give her a chance to talk.  
“Look...” the heiress carried on. “Whatever you're having to take from Valentino or whoever else, you're not handling it alone. The hotel's here as a safe place for you, away from all that. You _aren't_ alone. I don't want to see you beating yourself up like this. None of us do.”  
“Pft...” Angel tutted, folding his arms. Surely they weren't that concerned.  
“She is right, you know.”

Both Angel and Charlie's head darted up to the voice of the new arrival, watching as Alastor had entered and quietly closed the door behind him with a push from his cane. His smile seemed gentler than before, coming to a stop a few feet away from the pair of them as his eyes scanned the damage to Angel's room. He briefly twitched, subduing his relieved sigh. It was worse than he expected, but at least the room's owner was alright...  
“...what the hell are _you_ doin' here?” Angel finally asked, all his fury and anger at himself seeming to vanish now the Radio Demon was here. Charlie spotted it, having to restrain a smile of her own. So _that's_ who he'd been trying to impress.  
“I asked him to come,” she said sheepishly. “As a backup in case I couldn't calm you down, admittedly, but...”  
“Now now, Charlotte, you should call it what it is and say it was my own meddling,” Alastor said with a finger wag. “After all, it just wouldn't do to see our star guest in trouble after I promised I would prevent anything from ruining the hotel's image, would it?”

Angel felt a weak smile briefly curl at the corners of his mouth at those words. The same ones he'd heard in the restaurant that Alastor had used to try and disguise his interest in his dinner partner's well being. He was distracted by it enough that he didn't notice Charlie leaning in a little closer to him.   
“Listen, Angel. I know it isn't easy, and I won't pretend I have the pull or the influence to stop Valentino from doing this to you,” she admitted, getting his attention as her knee touched his leg. “But... I just want you to know this place is here for you if you need to step away. That _we're_ here for you.”  
Angel tensed when he felt Charlie rest her palm on top of one of his hands in a brief pat. He averted his eyes from it like a reflex, seeming a little confused as to how to respond to anything like this little intervention. Yet the young demoness kept smiling and assuring him all the same.  
“You gave me and this place a chance. So I'm not going to just leave you without one.”  
“...yeah.”

Charlie slid her hand away with a soft grin as the room turned quiet again. She thought she was getting through to him, at least a little bit, but the atmosphere was still tense. She needed something to seal the deal, something that would properly snap Angel out of his funk and move him past the events of the night. But what could it be...?  
“Ah, Charlotte, surely you didn't forget?”   
The hotel owner blinked as her eyes met Alastor. As her mind tried to work out what the Radio Demon was getting at, the deer tilted his head a little more insistently to the side, as if to motion to the hall.  
“I believe that you had something to give our guest here?”  
Her eyes suddenly widened. Of course, how could she have forgotten the _other_ back up plan they'd formulated on the way here?  
“That's... right! Yeah, we _do_ have something!”

Angel blinked as Charlie clapped her hands together and leapt up from the bed, displaying the same energy she had exploded with when Alastor had first arrived.  
“Razzle, Dazzle!” Charlie called, a flash of her fangs glinting in the dim light of the room as her cherished doll-companions burst into being with a puff of smoke. The two little goat demons stood obediently before their charge, Charlie briefly ruffling their heads as she admired their cute-as-a-button facade.

“Think you can get me that special thing we got in for our first patron?” she asked, both Razzle and Dazzle nodding in sync with one another as they held up their small claws. With another flash of fire and smoke from their palms that matched Charlie's own powers, the pair of them held up a decently sized pale blue box with a red ribbon around the outside.  
“Ah, perfect!” Charlie beamed, taking the box and pulling it close to her chest with a pleased giggle. “Thank you so much, guys!”  
Razzle and Dazzle flicked out their snake-like tongues playfully with a little bounce on the spot, suddenly being enveloped by a whirl of smoke in a twister that spirited them away.

Angel watched with a confused look on his face as Charlie returned to his side on the bed. She rested the box in her lap for a moment, tracing her painted-black fingertips over the surface before she suddenly thrust it towards him. The spider blinked, flicking between looking at her and the box in quick succession.  
“Uh...”  
“This is for you!” Charlie explained, the sweet smile still stretching wide over her face. Angel froze. He pointed to the box and then to himself as if to make sure that he wasn't misunderstanding her intentions.  
“That? For me?”  
“Of course!” the demoness beamed, pushing it even further forwards and forcing the male to take it when it fell into his lap. “Go on, open it up!”

Angel raised a brow at her strange urgency over the package. His natural wariness of anything like this was warranted, given how presents and gifts were yet more tools in the Studio's arsenal to keep him complacent... but he knew Charlie was better than that. At least if her aggravating positivity was anything to go by.  
His claws pulled at the ribbon, letting it fall away from the box as it split apart from the sharp points. The lid slid off easily when he pulled on it, exposing the contents and making a rather obvious gasp come out of him.  
Bundled and folded neatly inside the box was an item of clothing. A light pink in colour and soft to the touch as Angel held onto it with his hands. He pulled the garment up, his formerly serious face dissipating into nothing now he could properly see what it was.

A dress. A long ballgown with a heart shaped window in the chest, slitted up the sides of the long flowing fabric to make sure the wearer could show their legs. A darker 'belt' of silk hung around the waist, tied around the back with a large bow.   
It wasn't just any old dress either. It was a stupidly expensive one, having been displayed in the window of a certain boutique on the other side of town for weeks. It was designed to taunt the souls trapped here for greed with a price they could never afford. Including Angel.  
“What the fuck...?” he whispered to himself. This was something worth literally thousands and thousands, something he could never stick to budgeting for given his addictions and vices. Why would the kid waste so much cash on it?  
“Me and Vaggie, we, uh... heard you were eyeing this up,” Charlie explained, rubbing the back of her head like she was struggling to think of how to explain. “So I, uh... asked around, pulled a few favours and... snagged it! To act as a... congratulations for being with us for so long!”

The spider was lost for words. His light and dark eyes kept wandering over each contour in the material, each seam and stitch almost making it too good to touch. Like such fine clothing was way above him and his station. And yet here he was, holding the silky cloth in his claws, all thanks to Charlie trying to be nice to him.  
Yet... something about this seemed almost _too_ perfect. The way that it perfectly matched his tastes at a time when he had felt like none of that mattered. And the way that the girl was floundering her words trying to explain where and why she had come across it...  
He pushed aside his cynicism for the moment.

“I...” Angel started, resting the dress back down in the box as his clear head was starting to come back, like he didn't know how to really react. “Fuck, I dunno what to say...”  
“It's okay,” Charlie assured, that energetic smile still not having left her. “I just want you to enjoy it. And I... hope it makes you feel better.”  
The star's gaze wandered to the floor, biting his lip rather hard as the unfamiliar emotions of fluster threatened to surface. He swallowed quickly to push it down but eventually raised his head to look Charlie in the eye.  
“...thanks,” he finally said, the edges of his maw curling ever so slightly up into a smile. He always sucked at stuff like this, but he was being genuine this time. Trying to be.

The demoness took that as a good sign and simply bowed her head before she got up and started to walk to the door. She felt honestly pleased with herself, having done one of her good deeds for the day and already so early! And what's more, Angel was opening up to her. It was all looking rather wonderful for his recovery.  
“Just make sure you try it on, okay? I can't wait to see how it looks on you!”  
Before she reached out for the handle to leave, the demoness stopped and glanced Alastor's way, the Radio Demon's ear flicking upright at attention with a distorted noise.  
“Thank you...” she mouthed, giving him a pleased smile too before she departed for the night.

Angel stared after her, watching Charlie disappear through the threshold and leaving him with the dress and the slight hint of jazz on the warm night air. He looked down to the box on the bed, the clothing slightly spilling over the edges. Well, he couldn't say he didn't have anything fancy in his wardrobe now. And yet that didn't get rid of the uneasy feeling that something about this was off...  
He decided to focus his attention elsewhere. And he flinched a little in surprise when it rested on Alastor. The Radio Demon was still here, leaning against his cane and watching with that charming grin of his at Angel examining his present. Imagining what it might look like when he finally put it on... but the moment he realised the spider was staring at him, he bolted upright with a flurry of radio noise, clearing his throat and adjusting his bow-tie.   
“Well then... I believe we should both be retiring for the evening now, yes? Quite a busy day for us all, haha!”  
Angel's expression hardened a little. That fidgeting was a tell-tale sign of nerves, of being uncomfortable about something, just like back at the Club. As Alastor turned on the spot to leave, the star folded his arms and spoke up.  
“ _You_ bought the dress, didn't ya?”

Like his animal form in the headlights, Alastor seized up with a distinct ringing of mic feedback. His grip on his cane seemed to tighten as hard as the tautness in his torso, his head lowering just a fraction as he inhaled sharply.  
“I do not know what you-”  
“Come on, Al,” the near-bare arachnid interrupted. “The kid's got a lot o' heart, but she ain't got a lot o' cash. Not after sinkin' a ton into this place. There's no way she coulda got it.”  
Alastor's shoulders fell with a muffled huff of air, looking back over his shoulder with a lowered brow.  
“What does it matter where it came from?”  
“Because it _does_.”  
“Angel...”  
“Did ya buy it or not?”  
“Alright, yes, I did! But I did so to offer Charlotte my aid given your state,” the deer finally explained. “I remembered you saying you did not have much in the way of formal wear. So I suggested she use the garment to improve your mood on the way here. It really isn't worth being concerned over!”  
“O' course it is!” Angel cried. “For fuck's sake, you went outta yer way for me _again!_ You _know_ how much that shit matters to me!”

Alastor looked away, focusing intensely on the still closed door as his static seemed to get louder and worse. He knew he should leave before he compromised himself any further, before he allowed this terrible malaise to cling to his heart even harder than it already was. He did not want to confront it, to let it get out of control again like after their outing. But Angel stopped him.  
“Al. We need to talk about... us,” the taller demon insisted, standing up from his bed and keeping his arms folded taught around him. Alastor shook his head softly, still not turning around.  
“There is _nothing_ to talk about, my dear. If your mood has improved, I shall take my leave.”  
“No, we need to get things straight, now!” Angel suddenly boomed, almost making the deer flinch. “Maybe it's 'cause I'm a fuckin' wreck after today, maybe it's cause I'm still too high to care, but I ain't droppin' this! I can't take dealin' with this ambiguous crap any more!”

Alastor finally turned around at that admission, dismissing his cane in a wave of rolling shadow with a twitch of the wrist. His crimson irises fell upon Angel's exposed white and pink fur, contrasting the dark coloured straps of the lingerie he still wore below his waist. He swallowed, keeping his attention locked on the spider's eyes. Being flustered over sensual outfits right now would not be appropriate.  
“Then talk.”  
Angel's arms tightened, ruffling up the thick mass on his chest as he frowned at the blunt and to-the-point instruction.  
“Why are you doin' any o' this? Ya say it's all to keep this hotel runnin', but you're bein' so... thoughtful an'... _kind_ after I keep fuckin' up an' doin' things ya hate! Why?”  
“You know why,” Alastor replied, his grin diminished and his posture rigid. “I already told you. I was pleasantly surprised to have found agreeable company in you and I wish to preserve it.”  
“ _Bullshit._ There's more to it than that,” Angel disagreed, shaking his head as he pointed with a claw. “Ya came to check on me 'cause ya thought ya hurt my feelin's. Took me out to dinner at the fanciest place in town. Bought me _this_ thing to make me feel better! That ain't just wantin' 'agreeable company'!”

Alastor grunted, frustration starting to rise within him. Frustration that he didn't really have anything to use in an argument against Angel's own. He hands clutched each other behind his back, his eyes drifting away towards empty space in the room so he didn't have to look at those eyes any more.  
“I have... made myself clear on this matter, Angel.”  
“No, ya haven't, Alastor!” Angel growled, snapping the Radio Demon to attention at the use of his full name. “Just... tell me what's goin' on with you an' me! Ya said ya didn't want to _think_ about getting' wi' me, then yer takin' me out on a date! Ya act like my attitude to sex disgusts ya, then yer sayin' you like how I look in my drag outfits! What gives?!”  
  
“Angel, this is... _not_ the time to have this conversation...” Alastor rumbled back, baring his teeth in what could almost be mistaken for a snarl as the feeling around his heart was getting even stronger. But his counterpart would not back down, only seeming to get more riled up as the Radio Demon's continuous denial was wearing thin.  
“Then when will it be?! Huh?! When I get drunk outta my head and try to make a move on ya again? Or will it be when Val beats me half to second-death an' ya end up feelin' sorry for me like tonight?! Or maybe it'll be when I lose my fuckin' marbles from bottlin' this up for so long and finally say that I think I'm in _love_ with ya!!”

If Hell could've frozen over at that moment, it would do little to compete with the simultaneous chill that both of the demons felt stabbing through their cores. Angel's tense pose fell limp almost instantly as he realised in horror what he'd just said. And Alastor's smile was only barely hanging on by a thread as his own body felt heavy with static piercing the air around his head.  
“...what did you say?”  
Angel croaked, his mouth hung open as all the inhibitions his narcotics had dismissed came crashing back down onto him with the weight of an airliner crash. He took a step backward, swallowing hard enough to make the noise reverberate against the walls. He couldn't deny he'd said it. And certainly not that he felt it. But it didn't make saying it any easier with his voice sounding pathetically meek.  
“I said I... I think I'm...”

The Radio Demon didn't need to hear the rest of the failed sentence. His heart felt like it was being crushed hard now, reaching up to his chest with a hand as the uncomfortable sensation was now turning into something far more intolerable than just being odd. It felt hot. It felt twisting and turning. It felt...  
He let out a forced smirk, trying to lighten the severity of what he'd heard, even as the wild fluctuation of his tuning frequencies proved he was far from collected.  
“C-Come now, Angel, that was just you getting the wrong impression before! We'd both had a lot to drink, and I've admittedly been nicer than normal! That is all it is, yes...?”  
“...no, Al,” the star replied, shaking his head as his voice wavered. “I can't remember the last time I felt like this about a guy. Not here or topside. No one's ever have a shit 'bout me in the same way you have. The only thing that got me through what happened tonight was... thinkin' about you...”  
He stopped, throwing his hands down with an angry roar.   
“And, _fuck_ , it's so stupid and I _know_ I'm ruinin' the fact we're friends now! But I can't take dancin' around it anymore, okay?! Even if it's just me, even if the boss is right when he says ya don't _really_ give a shit, I needed to say it! _**FUCK!**_ ”

Alastor could only stare back as Angel coiled his multiple limbs around himself and went quiet, staring at the floor as though he was ashamed of what he'd just said. The deer's teeth clenched hard against themselves as another wave of heat and tight muscles seized him, his throat going dry.  
Damn this infernal curse... being struck down with these crippling sensations, especially ones he'd never had before, was becoming unbearable. All he felt he could do was attempt to clear the air at this point. Maybe honesty would force it back down and away from his conscious mind.  
“...what if it _wasn't_ just you?”  
Angel gasped as he brought a hand to his mouth, watching as Alastor took a step toward him on obviously unsteady legs.  
“W...Whaddya mean?”  
“I must admit that I have not felt like.... myself ever since that night,” the Radio Demon replied, his voice turning low and almost sluggish at having to talk about his usually closed off emotions. “For the afterlife of me, I do not know why, but I have found myself growing more... comfortable around you the longer we have been together. You might even say my mind has wandered. Entertained the prospect of becoming more... familiar with it...”

The spider felt his eyes stinging again as the Radio Demon fell quiet, astonished at his suspicions being proven right, at least in Alastor's own way. He... did he really think that?  
“Al... Al, are you-”  
“ _No._ No, I do not wish to speak on this any further,” Alastor suddenly interjected in a husky murmur, cutting the conversation off with a curt wave of his hand as he prepared to leave. “I must go.”  
  
“Wait!” Angel cried, walking towards him without thinking as the deer cringed at the almost-naked arachnid towering over him. “W-Wait, don't go! Ya _can't_ go... we can figure this out, right? I know we can!”  
“I said _no more_ , Angel.”  
“No! Don't ya dare!” the spider pleaded, failing to suppress the break in his weakened composure as he grasped Alastor's shoulders. The deer cringed from the unwarranted hold. “Don't ya _dare_ say somethin' like that an' then just fuck off as though it don't mean nothin'!”  
“I will _not_ repeat myself,” Alastor growled, his brow wrinkled in anger. “And I am asking _politely_ for you to _stop touching me_...”  
“No, ya ain't brushin' me off again, not now! Why won't ya just talk to me about it?!”  
“Because I _**don't want this!!**_ ”

Angel recoiled with a gasp at the unfiltered shout, feeling like his hopes were getting crushed beneath the weight of those words.  
“...what?”  
“These sensations, these... emotions are _wrong!_ ” Alastor growled, pointing towards the spider with an accusing claw-tip. “You're right! They _are_ making me act irrationally, making me do things I never would otherwise! But that doesn't mean I want them! I do not know what you have afflicted me with, but something about you has _cursed_ me with this ailment. I want _no_ part of it!”  
“I didn't do anythin' to ya!” Angel implored, almost appearing horrified at what he was hearing. “Al, it's... it's okay to think about it! I ain't had feelin's like this in a long time either! We'll-  
“It certainly is _not_ 'okay', Angel! This is not some internal awakening, no nostalgic pining for some sickly notion of love! I have _never_ felt things like this before... Not in my mortal life, nor my existence down here, not _once!_ ”

The Radio Demon grunted with a sound bite of a rising pressure gauge, his annoyance with his emotions starting to boil over, all while Angel's lip trembled from Alastor's cold words sending a chill down his back. He could feel his own spill out with a fresh welling of moisture in his eyes, blinking rapidly to still the flow in some vague hope that he could still salvage this.  
“I-I don't understand...”  
“I am _not_ like you. I have no urges to sate, no lust or romance to crave. I am content _without_ any of it,” Alastor said like a statement. His eyes narrowed. “They used to call me 'dysfunctional' in the human world. 'Sexually impotent', any cold term you can think of. All because I never had an interest in being a significant other to someone. But for me, that is the only reality there was and ever has been. And I was _happy_ with that! I _never_ wanted it to change, not even in all of my decades in the underworld! And then, after all this time, something about _you_ stirs feelings in me that I don't want? Why?”  
  
“I... I don't know why!” Angel admitted, rubbing his arms to try and fight off the cold the deer's words were blossoming within him.  
“Exactly! You're an explosive irritant one time and a manifestation of _debauchery_ at another, yet able to bewitch a man that has _never_ yearned for another, no matter how many have proclaimed their interest!”  
“Al-”   
“It's not right!” he cried, almost sounding childish in how irritated he was. “I _don't_ want what you want! So why do these feelings persist, Angel?!”   
“Al...!”  
“No, explain to me _why_ this is happening!” the Radio Demon implored, all the filters on his voice gone. “What possible attraction could I have to someone whose virtues I _despise_ so thoroughly that-”  
“Alastor!”

Alastor's eyes flew wide open. Angel's hands had pressed into his shoulders even harder than before, leaning forward to meet the shorter demon at eye level.  
“...ya feel somethin' here too, don't ya?”  
Alastor bore his teeth, averting his gaze to the floor.  
“Let go of me.”  
“ _Please_. I promise, I won't say anythin' to no one... i-it don't have to be a thing anybody knows about, I swear!”  
“Angel...”  
“Ya can... trust me with it, ya know...?”  
“I... do not know if...” the Radio Demon stumbled, shaking his head softly as he saw the taller male move closer. “No, I _cannot_ do this, _mon cher.”_ Yet his slip into the French tongue betrayed him, and he didn't stop or attempt to resist at all. The hold on him become firmer. More insistent.  
“Al... please,” Angel nearly whispered. “Just gimme a chance...”  
“My dear, we... we shouldn't. We _can't_. What if-”

He was cut off. Ultimately, it wasn't another mention of his name got him to stop talking, nor was it being handled. It was when, after only a moment of hesitation from Angel, Alastor felt the warmth of the spider's lips planted right against his own.  
It was like when they had returned from the Club, but a thousand times more intense. Alastor's static became almost ear-shreddingly loud the longer they stayed connected, yet neither he or the arachnid budged an inch. Angel kept his hold on Alastor secure, but gentle, not moving further than that first contact. He just savoured the moment, a subtle rumbling shuddering through his maw into the other male's own.  
Alastor's eyes half-lidded. Being against each other for so long like this was making him feel even woozier than the first time. His rock solid limbs, clenched to stone at his sides, had finally started to unfreeze themselves. A blossoming warmth in his face had begun to darken his pale skin.  
The seconds that ticked by may as well have been hours with how everything seemed to stop. How he became lost in the unusual, unfamiliar display of affection, one that he could feel...

And then it stopped. When Angel finally pulled away to get some breath back in his straining lungs, Alastor could only stare back at him in astonishment. He'd been so caught off guard by being forced into the most intimate thing he'd ever done in his existence that his smile had actually vanished. It was replaced with a look of total shock, an expression that Angel seemed to mirror as he came back to his sense over the act he had just committed.  
  
The spider brought his hands to his mouth as the lingering heat of Alastor stayed strong on his lips, while the deer breathed deeply as he tried to adjust himself back into working order. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife and it took all of Alastor's willpower to try and break it with some words.  
“We... will talk about this later.”  
With a movement that was far too hurried and full of fluster for anyone to assume that Alastor would ever do it, the Radio Demon pulled himself out of Angel's hold and made a bid towards the door without another word.  
“Al, wait...!” Angel exclaimed weakly, reaching forward as if to pull him back through the threshold as it opened. But the latch clicked and the door closed before he could get close to touching the other demon. He was gone.

The star was left alone in his private space, with little else but the remaining static on his music player to accompany him. Angel raked his claws through his hair, dragging through the tangled locks with his stomach twisting around in knots.   
What the fuck had he just done? Forget that night after the bar, this was definitely a step too far. He was going to end up destroying _any_ sense of camaraderie he'd gained with Alastor. Either that, or he'd be the next on the Radio Demon's list of victims to broadcast to Hell.  
“You stupid _whore_ , what the _fuck were you thinkin'...?!_ ” Angel hissed at himself, leaning back against his door as he sank down it to the floor. He couldn't help feeling that nothing he'd done wrong before would compare to this, the biggest mistake he'd made in this whole messed up situation. It was over.

Left to agonise over the horrors of the night, Angel was unaware that Alastor was resting against the other side of the door, trying to still his pounding heartbeat.


	6. Friction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With both Angel and Alastor stuck on how to move past what could be the final nail in the coffin for even just a friendship to work, it falls to both of their closest confidants to help them realise what they can achieve if they try.
> 
> (The music referenced is I Can't Get Started - Bunny Berigan & His Orchestra. Highly recommended listening.)

The morning came without further incident, much to Charlie's relief as she sat patiently in the dining hall for breakfast. In typical breakneck fashion, Niffty had just finished preparing a mini-feast of popular choices to start the day and was now zipping around the table pouring out cups of freshly brewed coffee for those who had managed to stagger down at this early hour.  
While the other handful of demon occupants of the hotel were staying on their own tables away from where the staff were congregating, Charlie and the other employees were around their own near the entrance to the kitchen. The smell of cooking floated through the lazy morning atmosphere, creating a kind of calm that one would never find elsewhere in Hell unless in the royal grounds.  
Charlie liked it. She'd wanted the hotel to be a safe place for demons who wanted to try and make a change, so making the place contrast with the oppressive and eternal nature of the underworld was arguably one of the most important things to get right.

Vaggie sat next to her, bowing her head politely towards Niffty as her cup was filled from the pot. Husk was across the table, his head slumped into a claw as he looked like he was fighting the urge to fall asleep again. Or at least feeling the effects of yet another hangover. Thankfully, Niffty's pouring brought him to attention again as he looked down to her with a fleeting smile.  
“Thanks, Niff,” he said gruffly, grabbing the mug and taking a hearty gulp with a rattling gasp when he was done.  
“Seriously, Niffty, you've outdone yourself again!” Charlie congratulated, gesturing to the large plates brimming with a wealth of toast, bacon, eggs, and all the normal staples that were laid out like a buffet away from the main table. The cyclops adjusted her apron with a giddy little hop on the spot as Charlie rose to get herself a plateful.  
“But of course!” she blurted out, words at a million miles a minute. “Gotta make sure all my friends are all _super_ ready for the day, especially given how many people there are to take care of! Well, at least how many there _could_ be 'cause a lot of the rooms aren't really occupied yet, did you see how much dust was in some of them?! It took me forever to-!”

“Speaking of guests...” Vaggie interrupted to stop the ramble going on too long. “Anyone seen where our other ones actually are? Specifically the infamous ones?”  
“If you're expecting the two biggest divas in here to cater to a schedule made by someone else, you might wanna reconsider,” Husk answered flippantly, reaching out to grab a slice of toast from his plate.  
“Aw, Husker!” Niffty exclaimed, zipping to the cat's side with a beaming smile. “Does that mean you're here because you _are_ sticking to a schedule? Does that means you _do_ care about this place?”  
“Like I was sayin'...” the feline growled, keeping his voice hushed as he attempted to keep Niffty quiet with a brief muffling of her mouth. “They ain't gonna be on time.”  
“I'm sure they won't stay away for too long,” Charlie reasoned as she returned, setting her cutlery down and taking a sip from her mug. “I mean who could resist all of this, right?”

As if the fates had aligned to prove her point, the attention of nearly everyone in the hall was grabbed when the door to the dining hall was kicked open with enough force for it to hit the wall. A moment later, the cause slid into the room in an almost fluid manner, letting out a bellow that caused a few of the room's occupants to flinch.  
“Mornin', motherfuckers!” Angel boomed, letting out cackling laughter to follow as he kicked the door behind him with his sock-clad foot. The spider was wearing a flowing bathrobe, hanging very loosely off his shoulders and with sleeves that looked baggy enough to resemble a kimono. The change from how he had been last night was staggering with how broadly he was smiling, a combination of a thorough clean up and demonic healing doing wonders.  
  
“Wow, you're looking so much better today, Angel!” Charlie complimented, watching as he sauntered around the other side of the table from her. The arachnid shrugged with a flash of his teeth.  
“Hey, sometimes sleepin' can fix more stuff than you think!” he said, downplaying the subject with a wave of his claw as he paused mid-step. In a smooth motion, he suddenly had three of his arms draped around Husk, the cat demon's fur standing up as the faux furry bust spilling out of the robe pushed against his cheek. “'sides, ya think I'm gonna pass up a chance to pay my favs in this dump a mornin' visit?~”  
“Get those things outta my face!” Husk growled, frantically waving his arms around to push Angel away. Angel simply laughed again as he let his prisoner go, taking an empty seat next to the bartender and lazing into it with a stretch of his lanky figure. Niffty was by his side in the blink of an eye, still holding her pot.  
“Coffee, Miss Angel?”  
Angel smirked at her question, nodding his head and gesturing to the mug in front of him. At this point, trying to correct the cyclops on his gender wasn't worth it with how hard she was sticking to her view on it, so he'd let her be.  
  
“Well, I'm glad you managed to get some rest after yesterday,” Charlie beamed, making sure not to mention any details to maintain confidentiality with what he'd told her. “Did you get to try on the new dress?”  
“Not yet, but ya won't be able to take yer eyes off me when I do!” Angel boasted, sliding his lower hands down his body all sensual like to see who he could get a rise out of. The fact that both Vaggie and Husk were averting their eyes only made his mischievous smile wider. “I'll show all o' you style starved fuckers what _real_ fashion looks like~”  
“I, uh, don't doubt that you'll try!” Charlie reasoned, her own smile faltering a little as she tried to disguise her own mild fluster with her mug in front of her face. “Well, dig in! Niffty's gone to her usual standards of making sure everyone can get seconds or thirds.”  
“First things first, babe,” Angel insisted, rising from his seat with his coffee clasped firmly in his right upper hand as he looked at the dark liquid. “This ain't _nearly_ sweet enough for my tastes. Don't worry, ya won't be without me for long!”

With those words, the star rounded the table and walked into the kitchen solo to fix up his drink with whatever sugary sweeteners he could muster. Disappearing around the corner, Charlie hummed to herself in satisfaction that what she did last night had worked.  
“I'm really glad he's feeling better,” she murmured, catching Vaggie's attention with her softer tone. “I was pretty worried about what would happen...”  
“I'll be the first to admit I had my doubts, especially with him. But you did a great job talking some sense back into him, hon,” Vaggie smiled softly, leaning over to squeeze her girlfriend's hand.  
“Well, I can't take all the credit! Al helped out too, after all,” Charlie insisted, even as she held on tightly back. Vaggie merely scoffed with a raised brow.  
“I don't take _him_ into consideration when working out who did the nicest thing.”

The princess laughed sweetly, turning her gaze towards the other guests to make sure they were all catered to. Now they just needed to wait for Alastor to arrive so that they could discuss the day's activities for the hotel's residents, especially since she knew he had chosen to stay the night after meeting with Angel.  
But as she reached for her knife and fork to sate her stomach, Charlie found herself stopping. She'd just noticed that Husk was staring after where Angel had gone, his expression seeming almost... suspicious at what he'd seen, his eyes narrowed in a squint.  
“Everything alright there?” Vaggie asked, having it brought to her attention when the conversation died down. Husk merely sighed, resting his head against his paw again with a wave of his opposite one to dismiss the idea. Charlie's smile dropped as she leaned over the table towards him.  
“What is it?”  
The bartender's eyes met hers and he shrugged, reaching for his mug.  
“Hmm... nothin'.”

* * *

He thought he'd gotten away with it, for now. But sooner or later, he wouldn't be able to maintain this facade of everything being hunky dory any more.  
The truth was that Angel had barely slept last night. And he certainly hadn't felt any better about it after what had happened. It was only thanks to demonic healing factors and some very good make-up skills that he could hide the damage on a physical scale. He wasn't reeling from after effects of the drugs or in pain from what Valentino had done to him. But that didn't mean he felt good in the slightest.  
He came to a stop before the sink, setting his mug down and leaning against the work surface with a deep sigh. He was usually better at hiding discomfort than this, he _knew_ he was. He'd had to learn that skill pretty fast depending on the roughness of a shoot at the Studio or when he had to keep any sign of weakness to himself. But this was draining him, his mind still a blur and unable to focus on what was to come.

He hadn't seen Alastor at all. Not a peep, not a movement, not even a fleeting distortion on his music player. He'd been half hoping and half dreading that he'd be at the table for breakfast when he walked in wondering if he could just act in his usual obscene manner towards the deer and things could go back to normal.  
But things couldn't be normal again. Not after what he had admitted, not after what _Alastor_ had admitted. Not after he'd _kissed_ the Radio Demon, without invitation or acceptance. Even if Alastor hadn't made him stop, even if Alastor had said he'd been dwelling about his own emotions on the matter, Angel knew that last act was surely a step beyond what was allowed.  
The deer had made it clear they would talk about it. But what would they talk about? When? _How?_ What was the ultimate goal besides trying to make things less awkward now that Angel had confessed feelings that Alastor didn't want?

“What the fuck am I gonna do...?” he cursed to himself, shaking his head back to a state of alertness so he could get what he came in here for to avoid raising suspicion. He cleared his throat. Sweetener. Right. His hands reached towards the cupboard at his eye level, rustling around the few items that were in there to find the small box of the sugar pills.  
He spotted them at the back, taking any small victory he could today with the looming inevitability that he would cross paths with the Radio Demon at some point given his curfews and restrictions. Pulling the container out and emptying three of the small pellets into his coffee, Angel closed the pantry doors and rotated on the spot to leave.

And his heart nearly stopped when his eyes met Alastor.

The Radio Demon had only just closed the kitchen door behind him when he'd frozen in place too, holding an empty mug of his own in his left hand. He was wearing a deep crimson dressing gown, the collar and lining on the sleeves as black as the dark parts of his hair, complete with a pair of black pumps on his feet.  
He wasn't wearing his gloves in a rare sight, his hands now the same pale colour as his skin and his exposed torso where the robe had parted on his chest.  
Alastor's head twitched ever so slightly to the side as his permanent smile diminished considerably at seeing Angel. He blinked once, a warped tuning frequency vibrating the air above his lowered ears as resumed his forward motion, heading to the opposite corner of the workspace where the coffee maker was to make his own brew. As much as he appreciated her efforts, Niffty's wasn't bitter enough.

The circumstances of them being in here for similar reasons of coffee modding wasn't lost on either demon, yet neither of them said anything about it. Or indeed anything. In fact, it was like Alastor was refusing to look Angel in the eye as he worked about getting the infernal machine going, whereas Angel couldn't really look away. And it wasn't just because of the fact he could see his crush was shirtless under his robe.  
The arachnid swallowed. He wanted to say something, to try and get their “talk” out of the way as quickly as possible since they were currently alone with no one to interrupt them. But the words wouldn't come, the only sounds in the kitchen being hot steam rising from the coffee maker.  
Angel huffed to himself, folding his arms around his gown and pulling it tightly shut. This was so fucking dumb, what the hell was so difficult about just saying _hello_ now? Even if he was a demon, showing manners to people he got on with was second nature. Or, in Alastor's case, people he _hoped_ he still got on with.

“... mornin'.”  
Alastor's sampled noises of static jerked up in volume for a split second when he heard Angel's voice. His body unfroze itself from his rigid state as he kept his deep red eyes focused intently on the state of his brew rather than turn to meet the spider's enquiring gaze.  
“Good morning.”  
Angel cringed. Alastor even _sounded_ different in how he'd said that, like he was having to try extra hard to summon the incentive to reply. He decided to persist in turn, relaxing his own posture to stir the sweeteners in his drink.  
“You, uh... doin' okay?”  
“I am well. I trust you are the same.”  
“Yeah... yeah, I'm good.”

Silence descended again as the machine clicked off. Alastor still didn't turn to look at Angel properly as he poured coffee into his mug and lifted it to his face to smell the intense aroma without any additions to mask the bitterness. Angel bit his lower lip, his expression starting to sour in annoyance. He didn't want their shared stubbornness preventing them from talking about something until it was too late _again_.  
“Look, Al,” he started, starting to take a few steps forward. “About last night-”  
“Stop,” Alastor interrupted him, his voice raising in volume quite a bit to make sure he was heard turned away as he was. “I do not wish to speak of it. Let us leave it at that.”  
“But... ya said we would,” Angel continued, his scowl becoming more pronounced. “It was the last thing ya said before ya left.”  
“Not now, Angel.”  
The spider huffed, throwing his hands down at his sides as he subdued his frustration as best he could in hissed words.  
“Why _not_ now? Ya think I can just act like nothin' happened? Are ya waitin' for me to say sorry? Or are ya just hopin' I'll forget what ya said?”

Alastor finally turned on the spot to face the star's raised voice and Angel immediately felt a chilling spike of apprehension run his chest through. Alastor's eyes glowed brilliantly, briefly switching to the appearance of radio dials before they returned to intense crimson irises. His lips briefly parted to show his teeth, but his smile was barely there as he spoke.  
“You may wish to talk about last night, but I do not. So you will keep your mouth _shut_ and you will _not_ speak to me again unless I ask you to.”  
“But, I-” Angel started, just as the deer cut him off with a raise of a hand.  
“ _Enough._ And respect the five foot rule while you're at it, please.”

The star could only nod meekly from the utter power in the Alastor's command, hugging his multiple arms towards his body with a step back. With another burst of radio samples betraying his calm movements and proving he was frustrated too, the Radio Demon quickly headed towards the door of the kitchen and disappeared.  
“...shit,” the adult actor muttered to himself, pulling his robe even more tightly against his body like it was some sort of security blanket. That was far worse than he had been expecting it to go. Whatever affection Alastor had once had for him, even in a friendly sense, appeared to be gone. And whether it was permanently or not, he had no way of knowing.

God damn it, this was even shittier than his mistake after the bar night. Angel felt a lump in his throat building again, the same one that he always had to suppress whenever he knew he'd fucked up on something. He didn't want to lose Alastor's interest in him, even if it would never escalate to what his feelings wanted, he _couldn't_.  
But how? What if he'd ruined the chance before they'd even gone anywhere with their feelings? All because of one brash action based on emotions of love that he hadn't dealt with before? Just like Alastor said he had been wrestling with in some way...?  
  
The arachnid growled, shoving away the comparisons that his brain kept bringing up as he prepared to return to breakfast. As he approached the door back to the hall, he pushed it open a little to peek outside.  
Alastor wasn't there. Perhaps retreating either to his room or wherever else he went whenever he wasn't at the hotel, it didn't matter. Angel took a big breath in and a large breath out, flexing his mouth muscles as if to double check he could still fake a cheery mood from when he first walked in.  
He stepped through the door.

* * *

“See? Told ya I wouldn't leave ya all waitin' to get more o' this in yer afterlives~”  
“How could we? You make enough noise about it that even _real_ angels can hear you...” Vaggie remarked dryly as she took a bite from her fork.  
“Aw, bein' jealous don't suit ya, babe,” Angel hummed with a fluttering of his eyelashes. “Not _all_ of us can look this good.”  
“Speaking of good...” Charlie spoke up, turning in her seat to look at the spider properly as he dished himself up some breakfast. “ _Is_ everything good? We just saw Al leave in a hurry from the kitchen, did something happen?”

Angel's smile threatened to slip as he stopped for a moment, grateful that he was turned away from the other staff members so that he could refortify his defences on the matter.  
“...nah! Nah, he just wanted a fresh pot. I guessed he ain't enough of a mornin' person to stick around flappin' his lips or somethin'.”  
Charlie kept her attention on Angel as he finished getting his breakfast ready, using his many arms to hold all of his fixings steadily. He then faced the door, taking a few steps towards it as if he intended to make himself scarce too.  
“Aren't you going to join us?” she asked, tilting her head as the arachnid looked back over his shoulder.  
“Sorry, princess, I gotta make sure Nugs gets some food in 'im too,” Angel excused himself quickly. “Ya'd be real surprised how much the lil' crap likes eggs. Later, bitches!”

Before Charlie could say anything further, Angel was already opening the door and leaving the dining room almost as quickly as Alastor had. She took her steaming mug in her hands for another drink as it closed behind him, her head swirling with ideas as to why both of them had exhibited such strange behaviour. Even if the likelihood was that it was nothing, it didn't feel right.  
“Well... that was weird,” noted Vaggie. “I don't think I've ever seen him pass up an opportunity to be obnoxious to everybody first thing in the morning.”  
“There's more to it than that...” Charlie murmured, her former positive energy starting to evaporate the more she thought about it. “I... maybe I missed something yesterday?”  
“Hon, I'm sure you didn't,” the moth encouraged, resting her hand on the Princess' shoulder. “We know that any demons who come here aren't going to be an easy fix. You might have to solve one problem to expose other ones, that's all.”  
“I suppose you're right. But there's something he wasn't telling us, I know it.”

Vaggie's brow creased in thought. She had to agree, even if she didn't have the foggiest idea on where to start with a possible source. And a part of her still didn't want to bother given how insulting Angel had been to both of them in the past on more than one occasion. But if whatever this was involved Alastor in some way, then it couldn't be good.  
And then she remembered what she'd noticed only minutes ago. Husk's look after the spider went to the kitchen. She returned her attention to the cat demon, his expression and demeanour hinting that he was aware of more than he was letting on.  
  
“Do _you_ know anything about this?”  
“Huh?” Husk blurted, like he was being woken up from a daydream. “What? You really think either o' them would tell _me_ if anything was up?”  
“You've known the Radio Demon for longer than anyone else sat here and Angel always wants to be at your bar,” Vaggie insisted. “Just anything that could help. Did those two get into a fight or something?”  
“Look, I ain't got anythin' to say about it,” claimed the bartender. “Even if I did, I doubt they'd like me blabbin' to you two,” the cat grunted, tearing at a piece of bacon from his fork.  
“So there _is_ something!”  
“I didn't say that!”

Husk cursed under his breath as his wings fluttered in agitation at walking right into that one. He knew he shouldn't run his mouth, certainly not about Alastor's feelings towards Angel. Nor about how it was obvious to him that Angel had been trying way too hard to fool the hotel owners into thinking that everything was fine.  
“Husk, please,” Charlie implored, vaguely aware of Niffty zooming about their heels to refill their cups. “If you do know anything, it could be important for Angel's recovery! Or just to help Alastor feel comfortable when he stays here!”  
Husk merely sighed and folded his arms.  
“Princess. You're a good kid who wants to keep everything peachy between everybody, I get that. But whatever's buggin' them isn't worth sticking your nose into. And I try and keep out of stuff that doesn't involve me rather than risk dealin' with the fallout those two could make.”

Charlie sighed. She understood, but in a rare moment of obvious grumpiness when she flumped back into her seat, it didn't mean she had to like it. Surely whatever the beef between them was could be settled respectfully and with maturity? Alastor himself was like the ideal gentleman when it came to things like that... the only downside was that Angel wasn't. Scratch that idea.  
“Well, regardless of what it is, they better get over it quick,” grumbled Vaggie. “We're trying to deal with people who have serious issues, not patch up childish fallouts because Angel probably said “cock” in Radiohead's earshot or something.”  
“Oh, it's nothing like that, Miss Vaggie!” Niffty piped up, having just finished making her rounds of pouring drinks for the other guests. “Isn't it obvious that they really like each other?”  
  
Both Charlie and Vaggie had to do double-take on each other at hearing that opinion, both of them head-cocking at the small cyclops as if to silently ask her to clarify.  
“Uh... say what?” the princess asked. Niffty took that as an invitation to share her thoughts. Liberally.  
“Haven't you all seen the way they've been looking at each other for a while? They've spent _lots_ of time at the bar, they've chatted for hours, they went out to dinner together! You can just tell they've done _all_ sorts of things and I know that Alastor would _never_ admit to anything like this, but you can _so_ tell that he really likes being around Miss Angel! And Miss Angel's also been really considerate and restrained so that they get along and it's really really _really_ sweet and I hope that they end up...”

Niffty stopped when she felt multiple pairs of eyes on her from all around the room. Her big eye twitched between them all, fixating on Husk in particular who he looked like the colour would've drained out of his face if he wasn't covered in fur. As he jabbed his claw across his throat to tell her to stop, the cyclops giggled, putting her hands behind her back in apology for going off on one. Vaggie broke the silence.  
“...are you talking about some sort of alternate dimension Angel and Radio Demon or are you being serious?”  
“Well, I...” Niffty said softly, brushing the front of her dress down. “Hey, anyone want more coffee!?”  
“I think you've had enough messing around with caffeine, short stack!” Husk quickly interjected, having risen from his seat to try and pry the manic maid away from the table. “Here, I'll help ya clear up, huh?”

Now Charlie was more confused than ever. First, Angel and Alastor begin acting strange around each other, then Husk admits to knowing the reason but not wanting to share it, _then_ he tries to distract them from the topic after Niffty suggests it's a weird... friendship thing? At least, that's what it sounded like.  
As the noises of the other two demons tidying faded into the background, Charlie stared at the inside of her nearly empty mug before she turned towards her girlfriend. Vaggie looked just as lost as she did, rubbing her one good eye and brushing a lock of hair out of it.  
“I think we're going to need to take a leaf from the cat's book and have booze in the coffee at this rate...” she said dryly.  
Charlie smirked at her attempt of a joke, but it was fleeting. She was too occupied pondering how truthful what they'd heard actually was. Was there actually something to it?  
“Yeah... maybe...”

* * *

“And another bullseye for Angie! Still got your aim after being locked away in that prison of yours.”  
“Prison's puttin' it lightly sometimes.”  
  
Angel snorted, pulling back the bolt on the sniper rifle in his hands and discarding the cartridge to reload. Something about packing this much heat was always going to be therapeutic to him somehow, but that was what being raised in the mob would do to you.  
It had been a few hours since the disastrous breakfast meeting and Angel had gotten sick of being stuck in the hotel with nothing but time to think. He'd needed to clear his head and had made a break for it, even if it had involved him striking up a deal to do chores when he came back. Whether or not he'd do them was something he hadn't decided yet.  
He'd called up Cherri Bomb, having not seen her for a while since the whole affair with Pentious. She'd managed to come across quite the amount of resources for her turf after snatching them from the snake inventor's stores, trading what she'd gained for some serious firepower. Being able to shoot and blow things up seemed like a good stress reliever.

The pair of them had chosen an empty rocky area, something on the outskirts of the city that Cherri often used to test out new explosive mixtures for her many battles. Angel had dressed casually, a fuchsia coloured jacket, pale pink t-shirt and skinny grey jeans clinging to his long legs. Cherri herself was in a thick orange sweater with an open neck hanging loosely off one of her shoulders, black cargo pants and shoes with her mass of hair obscured by a beanie hat. Almost inconspicuous, if it wasn't for them already being famous faces on the news.  
With a myriad of wooden targets quite some ways away from them, Angel had been spending the early afternoon perfecting his sniping while she had watched him, imagining the kinds of people who he'd love to sink a bullet into for inspiration from Valentino to particularly disgusting clientele.  
Yet it was momentary distraction. The truth was, he was still stewing over Alastor and was using this to put up blinders to it. He wished he knew what the next step to fixing that bag of bullshit was going to be, but he had no idea where to begin and a part of him deep down knew that he was just trying to ignore it by coming out here.

“Man, you've been really itching for a chance to try out the new merch, huh?” Cherri suggested, hands on her hips as she watched the tall effeminate one adjust his stance to take aim again.  
“What can I say? I'm a sucker for long hard things that can explode on my face,” Angel said, squeezing the trigger and firing off a round with a satisfying splintering of wood from the target being struck. Cherri's teeth gleamed in her smile.  
“Don't you mean explode _in_ your face?”  
“Same difference, babe. Hey, gimme one o' those, would ya?” he continued, gesturing with a free hand towards her without lowering the rifle.  
“Angie, if you were wanting to cop a feel, you know I'd happily let you!” Cherri giggled, reaching down to a box of ammo and explosive at her side to fish out a signature bomb for him to throw. As he felt the cool metal against his palm, the spider's own teeth bore themselves in a huff.  
“Geez, you're almost gettin' as bad as me.”  
“I'm sure there's some kind of joke about 'rubbing off on me' that I could make, but I'd never be that crass.”  
“Sure, ya wouldn't...”

He fired, another target shattering into pieces before he used his free hand to lob one of Cherri's explosives towards another one. With an almost machine-like efficiency, the spider reloaded with a quick twitch of his wrists and fired again. The bullet pierced the tumbling and turning bomb and exploded, the waves of flame taking out two more targets at once. Smooth and with as little chance for error as possible. That's what the family had always wanted.  
Angel grunted as he lowered his sights, turning towards Cherri and tossing the gun to her without warning. She caught it with a surprised noise as her friend walked past her, reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a cigarette and a light.  
“Damn, Angie. Little bit overkill, ain't it?”  
“ _You're_ gonna talk about overkill after that last fight we got into?” he replied, taking a long drag as he snapped the lighter shut.  
“Point taken,” the demoness conceded, checking the rifle over in her arms. “I just meant that you don't usually go this hard on target practice.”  
“Been that kind o' day, I guess. Or week.”

Cherri hummed inquisitively, watching as Angel sat down on a rock next to her box of munitions to continue his smoke. She smiled with a shake of her head, pressing the rifle into the ground barrel-down and leaning against it with crossed arms.  
“Alright, what's wrong?”  
“Huh?” Angel perked up, blowing out a cloud of dark smoke that swirled around his head. “Ain't nothin' wrong, babe! Everythin's cool.”  
“Come on, Angie. There has to be some other reason you wanted to come this far out than just to mess shit up. And since we haven't hung out in a little while, I want _all_ the details.”  
“Ya want details o' what bein' under house arrest is like?”  
“You know what I mean,” Cherri snickered, idly kicking her shoe into the dirt. “If you can't spill it to me, then who can you spill it to?”

Angel took another drag and sighed in defeat, shaking the smouldering butt to get rid of the excess ash.  
“It's real stupid and complicated. Ya don't near to hear it.”  
“Sure I do,” said Cherri. “I wouldn't be asking if I didn't want to know. Please, Angie, you know you can trust me with this stuff. Right?”  
She was right Angel knew there wasn't really a point in trying to maintain this stoic front around one of his only friends down here, one of the only ones who actually wanted to help him. He shrugged, trying to work out how to begin to explain the clusterfuck of a situation.

“...okay. There's this... guy at the hotel-”  
“A guy?! Oh, shit, Angie!” Cherri interrupted, clapping her hands together all excited at the prospect of what that meant. “Sorry! Sorry, I know, shouldn't interrupt, but now you _have_ to tell me everything!”  
“Hey, keep those tits calm, a'right?” he gestured, finishing off his smoke with a final puff. His took another moment to remind himself to be careful with what he said. He'd rather not taint Alastor's reputation along with everything else he'd done, so he'd have to try and be as vague as possible with identities.

“He's another... guest in the place. Thought he was some stuck-up prude at first an' he thought I was only a sex hound. But then we started talkin' properly an'... we really hit it off.”  
“Put some proper Angel Dust charm on, did you?” Cherri giggled, prompting Angel to bat a claw her way.  
“Not really. Just a bit o' booze and learnin' 'bout stuff. Lotsa shared interests, close death days, that kinda thing...” Angel's grin reappeared, faint as it was as he remembered that night. “An' then the last few days have been great. He really went outta his way to treat me nice, ya know? Even took me out to dinner an' shit, got me somethin' 'cause he _wanted_ to. Like, he really... ya know...”  
  
Cherri resisted the urge to squeal as she discarded the gun and squatted in front of Angel with her hands against her mouth. She could see the arachnid flushing under his fur talking about all this and it was really damn sweet.  
“Oh my god, Angie, that's so cool! It's about time one of the punks down here saw you as a good catch!”  
“Shut up...” he smirked, trying to hide his fluster.  
“I'm serious! And I'm not just saying that because I've seen how good you look in leather. Though I'm sure he already has too, right?~”

Unfortunately, with that little quip, Cherri saw Angel's beaming affection for this mystery man evaporate incredibly quickly. Her own expression softened as she leaned in a little closer, reaching forward to take one of the spider's lower hands.  
“Angie...?”  
“Uh... not really.”  
“Why? What happened?”  
“...I fucked up,” Angel explained, his gaze wandering away from his friend as the memory of the previous day came back to his senses. He could hear Alastor's shouting ringing in his head if he concentrated. “I tried to take stuff further after he said he'd been thinkin' 'bout me. But I went too far, more than he was wantin'... A-An' now I don't even know if he even wants to be friends any more...”  
“Aw, hon...” Cherri consoled, squeezing around his fingers as she heard him audibly swallow to keep his frustrations low. “I'm sorry...”  
“Knew I shouldn'ta got my hopes up...” he grunted. “Least it means the boss was right when he said no one would ever want me, huh...”

The cyclops scowled. Over all the years that she'd known Angel, one thing she would not stand for in her presence was him beating himself up like that. She'd had to pull him back on his feet more than once, well aware of the horrors he faced in his line of work and the man responsible for instilling this self deprecation in this head.  
But she didn't care how many times she had to do it. Angel was her best friend. Even as two souls damned to Hell, that mattered. She nodded to herself, determined to drag him out of this funk and sort this out.  
“It's only been a day, hasn't it? You said he liked you. You think he's just going to stop from one mistake, after you've been doing stuff together for a while?”  
“Yeah, prob'ly!” Angel argued, growling at himself for what he'd done. “Or... I dunno. I ain't fallen for someone and all that stupid bullshit before, I dunno what the fuck I'm doin'! But it's like he didn't even wanna _look_ at me today...”  
“Maybe that's true. But, if he's as stuck up as you said he is, what if he's in the same boat as you?” Cherri suggested.  
“Whaddya mean?”  
“You said that he's been thinking about you. You've been getting closer for a while. I mean, you've been on a fucking _date_ with him, Angie! What if he's only being like this because he doesn't how to handle it either?”

Angel blinked. Cherri always had a knack for being no-nonsense and cutting through the bullshit to get to the heart of things, and she'd hit the nail on the head as Alastor's words last night came back to him. Because that was pretty much what he'd said. That he didn't know _why_ he felt the way he did, that they were emotions he had never felt before because of his own preferences and orientations. They confused him.  
The star had never considered that perhaps Alastor wasn't being cruel on purpose or to try and be ignorant, but because he didn't know how to handle feelings he'd never wrestled with before in either life. It was a little ray of clarity on what to do next, which was much better than where he had started this morning.

“Angel, listen,” Cherri announced, snapping her bestie to attention with the use of his proper name. “You still want to get with him, right? You're serious about it?”  
“...I guess so,” the spider grumbled, folding his upper arms while the cyclops kept holding his lower ones.  
“Then just go along with what he wants for now. Be patient and considerate. Give him some time to think things over and he'll come around before you know it. If he feels the same way about you, then he _will_. I'm sure of it.”  
Angel's soft smile came back as he relaxed his posture. Maybe she was right... maybe Alastor just needed space to gather himself on such a thing properly. There was only a second long pause before he suddenly pulled Cherri into a hug, his squeeze rather firm as he let out a sigh from all the pressure on his mind being at least somewhat relieved. It was a small hope, but it was hope all the same.

“Thanks, babe...”  
“Hey, I'm always here to help. You know that,” Cherri smiled warmly back at him, patting the taller male on the back before she leaned away from his embrace. “Besides, you really think you're still going to be my favourite party guy if you're moping around like that?”  
“Even if I was slashin' my wrists, I'd still be better at partyin' than you could ever be...” Angel snickered, playfully ruffling her hat up to mess the hair underneath.  
“Oh ho, better watch it mister, or I'm gonna shove this rifle where the sun don't shine!”  
“Is that yer idea of a threat? To make me cu-”  
“Alright, alright, you win!” Cherri relented as she backed off, earning an honest cackle from her friend at nipping the sex references in the bud. She picked up the rifle from the ground and loaded it, ready to contest Angel's handiwork. “Now get your mind outta the gutter and watch me smash your record! Need to have something for you to try and beat when you bring your boyfriend along next time, right?”

Angel's face flushed at the use of that term. Even if he couldn't currently see it happening, Cherri's pep talk at least meant that he couldn't rule it out completely like he previously had been. Maybe he would be able to get to that point one day.  
He hummed, resting his head in a hand as he watched his best friend get to work.  
“I hope so...”

* * *

The gentle ticking of a grandfather clock and the smooth sounds of jazz music were the only sounds in Alastor's office. With his speaker playing a relaxing mix of slow swing and crooning vocals, the Radio Demon was sat in his luxurious chair with a glass of cognac on his desk and a book open in one hand.  
The night was still young, but he'd slipped into something more comfortable all the same. A gift from Niffty of a dark red knitted sweater, black trousers and a pair of spectacles resting on the end of his nose to replace his monocle. His usual noises of static and amplitude were subdued, showcasing his relaxed mood, and his features were gentle as he enjoyed an old tome he'd not picked up in a while.  
Yet, like the one who was causing alien feelings to take hold of his body like seizures as of late, Alastor was not doing this because he wanted to. He was doing it as a way to shut out the reality of what had been happening to him for a while now. He hadn't been lying when Angel had tried to approach him this morning and he simply shut him down. He didn't want to face it at the moment. So he wouldn't.

He instead reached for his glass, the ice inside clinking against the inner rim of as he brought it to his lips. He used his opposite thumb to turn the page as he drank, setting it back down again just as the radio on a his wall shelf seemed to interrupt its own music. The Radio Demon's ear twitched for a brief moment to acknowledge it, but didn't avert his intense stare from the words on his page.  
A slow piece came floating through the airwaves to him, a trumpet solo to introduce and a higher recording quality suggesting that it was a song made after his mortal life, but in the same era. He tapped his foot to it idly as the soft chords shuddered through his body like a massage, his smile flexing at the corners as he took it in.  
This was what he needed. No interruptions from hotel business, no stress of putting on a good radio broadcast of his own. And certainly no arachnid whore to cloud his judgement and his reasoning. It was still a mystery how Angel had managed to breach his defences so easily, but he was certain that would be the end of it. Who knew what the harlot was up to right now...

The distortion on his speaker blared out again as Alastor realised his thoughts were veering to Angel again. His eyes narrowed as he shook his head briefly, refocusing his attention on the pages of his book. No, that was enough of that for the moment. Or so was the intention until the song on his speaker moved into the first verse.

_I've flown around the world in a plane  
I've settled revolutions in Spain_

Alastor knew this song. His eyes widened back up again as the next two lines seemed to spike those horrid sentiments in his core again.  
  
 _And the North Pole I have charted  
Still I can't get started with you_

He cringed for a moment, having to close his eyes to try and keep his powers under control. He knew if he was fired up emotionally, equipment of this nature would easily tune into things that would open up a window on his thoughts and feelings. He could _never_ allow that, he wouldn't.  
Yet as the captivating song continued to play, Alastor found his attention being pulled towards the radio speaker. Like he was listening to himself singing the words of what was inside and what he was refusing to let out.

 _On the golf course, I'm under par  
Metro Goldwyn have asked me to star  
_ _I've got a house, a showplace  
_ _Still, I can't get no place with you_

Alastor growled in annoyance and snapped his fingers. A brief pop of sparks flew out of the speaker grill as the device short-circuited and killed the music, the room descending into silence apart from the ticking clock. No, no that wouldn't do in the slightest.  
 _'Enough, Alastor...'_ the deer chastised himself mentally. _'Enough...'_  
With an exhale to ease off his discomfort, he took another long drink from his glass and set it down hard, just as his ears were alerted to the different sound of a knock on his door.  
The Radio Demon's brow arched up as he moved his hand again, his power unlocking it from across the room and allowing it to slip open. His scepticism eased off when the tell-tale colours of black, red and white greeted his eyes.  
  
“Ah, Husker, my fellow! Do come in!” he welcomed, the bartender shutting the door behind him with his tail as he took a few steps towards his association's desk. “May I get you a drink?”  
“If you don't mind sharin' the good stuff, I guess,” the cat answered honestly, eyeing up the one already present on the deer's work surface as they rose from their seat to pour a glass from a nearby cabinet. “You always have some kind of fancy shit stored away in here.”  
“I doubt _you'll_ find fault in a private reserve for one's own use,” Alastor commented, turning around and presenting the bartender with a glass of cognac too. Husk grabbed it and downed half of the stuff in one gulp.  
“Just an observation, Al. Chill,” the other demon grumbled, sliding into a chair with a lazy posture as he held onto his glass.

“So, what can I do for you, my friend?” Alastor asked, setting his book down and clasping his hands together on his desk.  
“Funny. You took the words outta my mouth.”  
“Oh, you consider me a friend as well? How wonderful!”  
“Keep the smart-assery to yourself for a bit,” said the bartender, swallowing another mouthful of alcohol. “I was actually wantin' to ask how _you_ were holding up.”  
“A bit of a strange question to be asking me, don't you think?” Alastor replied, tilting his head and adjusting his glasses.  
“Is it really? You barely show your face all day, you shut yourself in here when it gets dark, and now the princess is askin' a bunch of questions about what you're playin' at.”  
“I didn't realise that wanting solitude was a sin now.”  
“It ain't,” Husk gestured, pointing at the deer with his drink. “But when you only wanna be left alone when _Angel_ is in the building, then that looks pretty fuckin' weird.”

The fact that Alastor's ears visibly bristled up and the grip his hands had on each other tightened at hearing the arachnid's name said all it needed to. Husk growled with a nod.  
“I knew it.”  
“Now, see here, Husker!” the Radio Demon suddenly exclaimed, leaning forward. “What Angel Dust does is of _no_ concern to me. I know that felines have a tendency to be stubborn, but I don't know how many more ways I can say it save for carving the words into your _skull_.”  
“And yet it's gettin' a rise out of you. I think I've proven my point,” Husk concluded, rising up from his seat to top himself off with Alastor's stash. Alastor himself noticeably growled in anger, the radio filters on his voice fading away.  
“Husker...”  
“How long do you think you can bury your head in the sand about this?” the cat carried on, completely unphased by the deer's attempts to intimidate him as he sat back down. “Those two girls may not have sussed it yet, but I have. I've tried to keep 'em off the trail, but they're gonna get to the bottom of why you're bein' even more anti-social than normal.”

Alastor folded his arms and leaned back into his chair with a scowl and his eternal smile faint, sharp fingertips clawing into the material of his sweater as he turned his eyes away from Husk's prying gaze.  
“If there is a reason you're here apart from poking fun like you have been for _days_ , then I strongly suggest you get to the point.”  
“Works for me,” Husk agreed, sitting himself back down and resting his arms against his legs. “Listen, Al. I've known you for a long time. I know your whole song and dance about why you ain't interested in hookin' up with people. And fuck knows how that creepy crawlie's managed to be the exception to the rule.”  
“Then you already understand!” Alastor huffed.  
“ _But._..” the cat interrupted. “He is all the same. I saw how happy he was around you, I was there the first time you started talkin' and when you were takin' him out. And I also know you don't do anything unless you can get something out of it. You _were_ getting something out of bein' with him.”

Alastor couldn't fight the logic, nor the way that Husk stated it as though it were fact. And he _hated_ that. His hold on the arms of his sweater lessened as the prospect of being defeated in this argument didn't sit right with him at all, now sensing a mixture of disgust combining with the already taught sensations clutching around his heart.  
“It is not a simple matter,” the Radio Demon finally said after some silence. “I do not require a relationship, nor do I want one. If anything, this entire affair has been nothing but an illness on my mind and I want it to _stop_.”  
“That ain't how this shit works and you know it,” said Husk, shaking his head. “Come on, Radiohead, you _obviously_ like him. Hell, I'd dare say you might even have the same crush he has on you!”  
“What I feel about that... _harlot_ or vice versa is irrelevant!” Alastor snapped back, standing up from his chair and slamming his hands down onto the desk. “If you're trying to persuade me to pursue something I have no interest in, then you're wasting your time!”

Husk actually felt the corner of his mouth tilt upwards in a smile. He'd only ever seen Al lose his cool in very rare moments, and all this was doing was proving him right.  
“You wouldn't be this mad if you didn't care.”  
Alastor cursed under his breath.  
“This is ridiculous...”  
“Yeah. Feelin's usually are. But you've been fallin' for him and it don't matter if you want it or not.”  
“If that's right, then what do you suggest I do?!” the deer barked, his composure starting to fail as his smile momentarily vanished. “Being an 'expert' in the field of attraction as you are, of course, I'm sure you have _all_ the answers!”  
“I dunno, maybe talk to him like an adult instead of throwin' a childish fuckin' sulk in your office?!” Husk snapped back, in a mocking tone, almost sounding amazed that such a solution wasn't obvious. He sighed, rubbing his claws against the bridge of his nose, vaguely aware of the sound of Alastor sitting back down. Maybe he had to try another angle.

“How do you think _he_ feels right now? Seein' one of the only chumps down here who's ever treated him right refusin' to even look him in the eye? You think that's fair on him?”  
Alastor's ears fell, even as much as his grumpy facade was still persisting on his face.  
“That wasn't what I was trying to-”  
“Yeah, it fuckin' was!” Husk accused him, gulping to finish his glass. “You thought you could just play dumb and hope this would all breeze over so you wouldn't have to deal with it. Well I got news for ya, pal! The guy's in _love with you_. And you're _scared_ that you might be startin' to love him back.”

The Radio Demon's static screeched as his lip curled with rage, the air around him starting to spark with the raw power of his magic. The sheer insolence of that accusation, the hubris for the cat to claim he knew his mind! How _dare_ he suggest that he was _frightened_ of someone like Angel Dust! Someone as seedy, as low-class and blunt, as sexually obsessed and... funny. Charming. Determined and beautiful. And someone he didn't want to risk being close to in case he...  
His expression went slack as it clicked. The prospect of becoming close to someone like that _was_ daunting. Intimidating. Inspiring feelings of weakness that Alastor couldn't even begin to put names to because he'd never had them before. Try as he may to stop them, it was clear that he couldn't. Not with how often his thoughts kept going back to that infuriatingly... attractive spider.

Unholy Hell. Husker was _right_.

Alastor's anger dissipated as his body felt limp, leaning against his desk with the release of a sigh and a flurrying whirl of his demonic aura evaporating into nothingness. He lowered his head, his glowing red eyes partially obscured by his fringe.  
Husk, still unperturbed by his associates tendency to display his raw strength, simply tilted his head the other way like he waiting for an answer after that miniature tantrum.  
“I'm right, aren't I?”  
“...yes.”  
“Well? You gonna do somethin' about it?”  
“...I shall talk to him,” the Radio Demon finally relented, feeling a little ashamed for snapping as he did. He had no counter-point, no argument to make. It was his mess and his responsibility to fix it.

Husk exhaled in relief at having gotten through the stubbornness, pushing him up onto his feet with a slight wobble thanks to already being inebriated before he'd come in.  
“Good. Was startin' to get real damn tired of Her Royal Goody Two-Shoes pesterin' me to spill the gossip...”  
The bartender turned around to leave, setting his now empty glass down on the work surface as a silent thanks for the drink.  
“Husker.”

The deer's voice stopped Husk mid-step, making him look over his shoulder towards Alastor. The Radio Demon still seemed shaken by their talk with the way his ears had remained drooped, but his smile had returned at least a little. He nodded, fidgeting with his glasses again as they came loose from their resting place.  
“You have my gratitude.”  
Husk smirked, resuming his path to leave as he reached for the door handle.  
“Well, someone has to beat some sense into ya. Considerin' everybody else is usually too scared to try.”  
“I suppose you're right...”

As the door closed with the feline's departure, Alastor took another long drink from his own glass to finish off the round. While he may still have been dreading the possibility of what would happen the next time he ran into Angel, Husk at least had given him some clarity. Trying to just ignore this until it went away wasn't going to work. It was downright cowardly, even.  
He rotated his chair towards the radio on the shelf, the machinery still fizzling with electrical burnout. He snapped his fingers again. The damage he'd done to it began to reverse, like the device was caught in a bubble of backwards time until it was back to working order.  
Then the tuner began to shift up and down in frequency and volume, moving in sync with Alastor's hand until it found the exact sort of music he wanted to hear right now. The same one that had previously angered him.

_'cause you're so supreme, lyrics I write of you  
I dream, dream day and night of you  
And I scheme just for the sight of you  
Baby, what good does it do?_

Alastor's smile turned warm as he closed his eyes, resting his hands against his frame. He hummed to the melody gently, tapping his foot against the ground as he did so.

Maybe there was something to this after all.


	7. Making A Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The path to reach this point had not been easy, things never were in Hell. But when all was said and done, was it possible that these two polar opposites so inexperienced in the ways of attraction could find something together?  
> It once again came down to sharing another drink.
> 
> (Thank you all for sticking with my first story on here until the end. Here's to many more.)

Angel opened the front door of the hotel, just before the clock had struck six in the evening. Having just finished a rather long shift at the Studio, he kicked it shut behind with his heel and a huff.   
Tossing his jacket in the vague direction of the coat rack and not caring if he made the shot, the spider had chosen comfort rather than style with his clothes, wearing a plain white t-shirt that just exposed his stomach along with denim shorts and his customary thigh high boots. He aimed his trajectory to one of the couches by the fireplace, sprawling over the one closest to the flames and raising up a few palms to catch the heat. And to rest bits of him that ached.

Even after being in all sorts of positions and putting it all on for the cameras, his head had been still mulling over what Cherri had told him whenever there was a quiet moment on set. That he had to be patient, to give Alastor the space he needed to come to terms with what had gone down between them. He knew she was right in her suggestion of how to play it, and also from what he had seen. The problem was that he was an impatient bitch.  
He crossed his legs, folding his lower arms over themselves and fishing out his phone with the others. No new messages. To most social media addicts, that was a disaster. To Angel, it meant Valentino was leaving him alone after getting what he wanted on film today. Good. Having to stomach that shithead would be the last thing he needed to end a work day.

The arachnid sighed in relief, switching the device off and closing his eyes. With so much happening over such a short span of time, he almost felt like he'd been working solid at the Studio for days without a break. Just without many of the usual aches and messes, instead replaced by further aches of a different sort when Vaggie would lose her cool with him or something. He needed a break.  
But before he slipped into a nap to ease off his fatigue, Angel's attention was alerted to the sound of voices coming from behind him somewhere. He was certain it'd be the princess and her entourage given the mere handful of souls that had checked in as guests, so he rested his hands behind his head as he remembered Cherri's advice to chill out and stop stressing. They probably didn't even realise he was here anyway.  
But it was easier said than done to play ignorant when he distinctly hear _his_ voice bouncing off the walls.

“You've clearly put a lot of thought into this program for your new arrival,” Alastor commented. “Shame that it won't end well for them!”  
“Hey!” Vaggie snapped, walking into the lobby with both him and Charlie in tow in the aftermath of a staff meeting. “We only included you in the discussion because you're a sponsor. Don't you go screwing it up!”  
“Wouldn't dream of it, my dear!” the deer bowed. “As a 'mere investor', I'm only here to make sure my contributions are used for their intended purposes! I'm sure your guest will ruin it for themselves all on their own.”  
“At any rate...” Charlie butted in, her arms full of a bundle of papers. “I think we did really well today, guys! We're now up to at 6 patrons and we're going to make a difference to all of them!”  
“And it's all down to your hard work,” Vaggie assured, leaning in to peck her girlfriend on the cheek. Though her expression soured when Alastor and one of his sound bytes chuckled at her.  
“Indeed. 6 down, _millions_ more to go...”

Charlie rolled her shoulders and kept on smiling, knowing that Alastor's attempts to rile her up were falling on deaf ears. Besides, he wouldn't be still here if he wasn't wanting to see it through to the end too, even if ultimately for selfish reasons. Though before she could summon her next thought on what to say, her stomach seemed to do it for her with a rather loud grumble. She winced a little. She hadn't forgotten to eat again, had she...?  
“Okay, I think we all could use some food,” Vaggie decided, reaching out her hands to take her share of Charlie's abundance of folders and files so she wasn't dropping anything.  
“Excellent idea!” Alastor agreed, his hands behind his back as the trio walked across the floor together. “If you were so inclined, I suppose _I_ could whip up something for us? Poor little Niffty's been running rampant all day trying to fight her war on germs and I'd hate to tax her further...”  
  
“Really?” Charlie beamed, her smile now almost rivalling the Radio Demon's own. “Aw, Al, that's so sweet of you! I'd love for you to cook!”  
“Is all this talk of being _nice_ to others actually rubbing off on you?” Vaggie quipped, allowing herself a soft grin. “Or is it some ploy to lace it with arsenic for laughs?”  
“Careful. You might give me ideas...” the deer snickered, his eyes pulsating with light as his grin remained sharp. “Now, away with you! If you can just wait an hour or so, I assure you that you'll be graced with the best gumbo of your afterlives! And make sure you're presentable!”

Charlie giggled, turning to Vaggie with her face even more lit up than before at the chance to do a little dressing up before dinner. Even if such things weren't her usual interests, the moth smirked knowing that she would have little say in the matter. The two girls left with a fluttering sound of papers and footsteps, whereas Alastor stayed where he was as they departed. He'd just heard a rustling sound manifest behind him.  
The Radio Demon turned around towards the fireplace with a tuning noise when he caught sight of the culprit. Specifically, thick white hair visible over the back of one of the couches. As if right on cue, the now familiar tension within him sprouted along his limbs, making his hands grip against each other as his ears perks up.  
He hadn't noticed that Angel was there until now, and he was sure the spider had been listening in the whole time despite his attempts to try and keep to himself. The deer supposed it made sense when had explained his conditions that morning. The star was supposed to keep his distance and not speak unless he was spoken to.

Alastor's expression softened, knowing how rude that had been to say after Husk's 'words of wisdom' made the real solution apparent. That _he_ had to take the first step of talking about... them. But what was he going to say? Jumping right into the heart of the problem out of the blue didn't feel like the right decision, but he also couldn't just ignore Angel when he was sat right there.   
The deer sighed before taking in a breath, walking forward just two steps towards his counterpart and coming to a halt. Time to put Husk's suggestion into practice and begin to mend this frivolous little rift.  
“I didn't realise you were back from your ventures.”

Angel flinched in surprise at hearing that voice put his way. His heart thumped hard a handful of times against his ribs, but he focused on forcing himself to calm down. He couldn't get carried away just from that, even if the fact Alastor was bothering to speak to him at all was a massive change from that morning. He pushed himself up to stand, turning around to face the other demon.  
His attempts at being contained were once again put to the test when he saw what the Radio Demon was wearing. Alastor was donning a jet black waistcoat and a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to just past his elbows with his black gloves aiding with the contrast. His suit trousers were a dark maroon colour, also contradicted by the stubby fur of his red and white deer tail, and a pair of silver spectacles were perched on the end of his nose.  
Holy shit. If he wasn't acutely away of the circumstances between them right now, believed he knew Alastor better than to do this on purpose, or that he hadn't just been on set for five hours, Angel would be jumping him to get some of that right fucking now.  
  
But... that was bold. And being bold was what had made this entire mess happen in the first place. He instead coughed and hoped that his flush wasn't noticeable, resting his claws on hips and against each other or whatever felt natural.  
“Uh... yeah,” he replied, rubbing the back of his head and trying to act cool. “Just shootin' a movie, then shootin' the shit with Cherri, ya know? An' no, it weren't against live targets this time in case Miss Prissy Pants starts askin' questions....”  
“That is good to hear,” Alastor nodded, adjusting his glasses before turning silent again for a moment longer. His own awkwardness was not lost on either of them when he looked to the floor as if wondering what to say next. He settled on another question.   
  
“Will you be joining us for dinner? It would be a shame not to share another of my mother's recipes with all of you.”  
“Oh, uh... yeah, I'll be there!” Angel nodded, smiling broadly for what only seemed like a split second before he coughed again to try and downplay his enthusiasm. This was proving more difficult than he imagined. “I mean... wouldn't wanna disappoint yer Ma, right? Wait... fuck...”  
The last curse was said almost inaudibly, but Alastor's excellent hearing meant it came through clear as day to him. His smile fell somewhat. It was obvious that forcing Angel to act this way was proving to be an almost unfair challenge for the spider to pull off, like being reserved and controlled almost made him feel physically uncomfortable.   
Alastor didn't like it when Angel was uncomfortable. Now he had even more of a reason to fix this.  
“Well, then,” the deer continued, giving a soft bow to the taller male and turning smoothly around to head towards the kitchen. “I shall hope to see you there. One hour.”

Angel blinked as he watched the demon walk away at a brisk pace, the faint distorted chords of jazz music muffled as the dining room door swung shut behind him. He clutched a claw against the fluff beneath his shirt, having felt his heart jump from its resting place at that endearing tone. Even despite the terse nature of the words, the way they were said was at least a sign that maybe giving his crush space was working.   
Maybe.  
He sighed, repeating the mantra of his bestie's advice over and over to make sure he didn't get too far ahead of himself. Sure, it wasn't nice to keep pushing down these emotions that were straining against the walls he'd put up around them. And that was saying something since he didn't usually _like_ being emotional in the first place, meaning this _should_ be easy.  
But even if it wasn't... if it gave him another shot with Al, then Angel could tough it out. And, unlike how his boss never seemed to be satisfied with his behaviour no matter what he did, maybe he'd be rewarded for _actually_ following the rules for a change.

His stomach suddenly lurching into a hungry growl out of the blue was almost confirmation that dinner was a good decision anyway.

* * *

“I swear, Al, you could've easily become a proper chef instead of a radio host!” Charlie exclaimed, taking another mouthful of gumbo with a satisfied hum.   
“Don't take that to heart, Talk Show. Charlie tries her best to see the best in even the _most_ irredeemable...” Vaggie insisted with a glare at him. Though the fact she ended up finishing that thought with another bite of her own serving proved she agreed.

Alastor simply smirked in achieving that miniature victory as he walked around the table with his creation to offer up seconds. He was taking a slow deliberate path and leaning over his diners to monitor what was left on their current plateful.  
“Kid's got a point,” Husk piped up, taking a long drink out of one his bottles to wash it down as his associate neared him. “I sometimes ain't got a lot of nice things to say about you, but you've got a knack for this. 'Course, I _am_ drunk right now...”  
“Well, I can't take _all_ the credit,” the deer said with a wave of his hand, leaning the bowl of gumbo closer with a soft nod as if to offer another helping, to which Husk agreed. “You can thank classic Southern style and my mother's teaching for this!”  
“I think Miss Charlie's right!” Niffty exclaimed, almost giddy in her seat as Alastor neared her to dish out some more of his meal. “I've always liked it when you cook~”  
“I know you do, darling,” Alastor hummed back at her, giving her another spoonful before leaning away to continue his path.

His eyes fell upon the last one to be served. Angel. Sat at the end of the table, also having dug into the first helping and leaving only scraps left behind, he seemed to be not paying attention. Unlike the others, he had remained relatively quiet as they had talked among themselves, at least compared to normal. Outside of occasionally checking his phone or making a quip whenever someone make an accidental innuendo, the star was taking the instructions he'd been given to heart. Almost to a fault.  
Alastor's face creased into his best approximation of a frown, even as his smile stayed plastered to his lips. He came to the spider's side and cleared his throat to get his attention. Almost immediately, Angel snapped out of his own thoughts with a twitch, his head darting around to meet the Radio Demon's gaze.

“Care for some more?” he asked, his softer tone easier to disguise among the louder voices of their fellow patrons. Angel swallowed as his brain took a moment to catch up with him.  
“Uh, sure!” he grinned back, shifting out of the way so that the deer could do his work. Maintain distance. “Gotta say, they're right 'bout this. Ya coulda been a cook if ya wanted.”  
“Perhaps,” Alastor responded with a subtle shrug as he placed some more gumbo on the plate. “The bloodlust proved to be the winner in the end, however. I suppose it's good that I haven't combined the two professions, eh? Unless I already have and not told you...”

Angel laughed softly at the joke, his mismatched eyes following the path of the serving implement as he did so. Alastor seemed to like this, the corners of his mouth flexing wider at seeing a positive improvement upon his counterpart's face. But, unfortunately, it didn't last. Within a matter of seconds, Angel had grown quiet again, his focus intent on the food rather than carrying on the conversation.   
The Radio Demon could just make out soft whispers to himself upon those lips, a sample of tuning static syncing with how his ears twitched to clarify the details. Repeated variants of what Angel had been told in the kitchen, to wait until he was spoken to and not get too close.   
Alastor's head tilted. It spoke volumes about how much the star valued his attention, but also emphasised Husk's point that it wasn't very fair. It had been one thing before to use Angel's attraction to him to make him do things for the hotel, but now he'd abused it so that he complied with these stupid “rules” for results he wasn't sure he liked.   
And he had to put a stop to it. The last thing he wanted was to be comparable to that vile insect at the Club...  
  
“Angel.”  
The arachnid turned towards the deer, letting out a surprised noise to see that the Radio Demon had bent forward at the waist. Now he was incredibly close to the point that their faces were within centimetres of each other. Angel gulped. Had he done something wrong?  
“...y-yeah, Al?”  
“Will you meet me at Husker's bar when our meal is finished?” he asked, his tone low and gentle in the same manner as when they first started exchanging words properly. “We should talk.”  
Angel swallowed again. He wasn't sure if he could suppress the burning in his face with this, certain that Alastor would be able to feel it being this close to him. He slowly nodded his head, forcing out a smirk to try and play down his fluster.  
“...s-sure.”   
“Excellent,” said the other demon as he stood upright again. He resumed his path around the table to his own seat, leaving Angel cursing at his body betraying him to expose the feelings he was trying to keep hidden. And it didn't go unnoticed.

“Um, Miss Angel Dust? Are you okay?”  
Niffty's voice grabbed the effeminate demon's attention instantly, nearly flinching at seeing how the little cyclops had pushed herself up on her arms to be analysing him intently with that unblinking eye. He spluttered, putting on a frown.  
“'C-Course I'm okay! Ain't nothin' wrong! Why?!”  
“You just look a little red in the face...”  
“Ay, ya know how it is!” he dismissed, using a free hand to grab his drink while his others batted at Niffty to back away. “Just too much at once on the fork! A lotta seasonin's and shit in here, yeah?”

Angel cringed at himself. He wasn't sure if _he'd_ believe such a feeble excuse, yet alone a maid who was able to see even the smallest details in things. Which made sense given how she was the walking definition of an OCD cleaner. Yet, thanks to whatever divine or unholy powers were at work, she dropped it at his word.  
“Hmm... okay!”  
The spider slowly exhaled as Niffty sat back down, taking a long gulp of water from his glass as he focused back on finishing the excellent food. At this point in his existence, he should be used to dodging bullets on a daily basis. The verbal and personal sort were just ones he needed more experience with, even if he had gotten away with it this time.

That was what he thought and was sticking to at least, too busy with dinner to notice Niffty leaning towards Husk at her side. She elbowed the cat in his side to get his attention, greeting him with a sly grin and smug expression on her face. The bartender's confused gaze switched between her, Angel and Alastor in turn, trying to wonder what she was getting at.  
“What?”  
“They _totally_ have the hots for each other~”  
“Shhh!” he suddenly hissed at her, gently edging the smaller cyclops back down into her seat and urging her to not flap her gums over something that clearly wasn't supposed to be public knowledge to the rest of the hotel.  
“Are you alright, Husk?”  
The cat's fur bristled at Charlie said his name, having been unaware of how loud he was getting Niffty to shut up.  
“Uh, yeah. Just bit my tongue is all...”  
“Oh, I'm sorry!” she frowned. “Do you need anything? Maybe some water or-”  
“It's fine, princess,” he said back in a curt manner, trying to move on from it as quickly as possible. To his relief, Charlie nodded back in understanding and dropped the subject, leaving Husk to grunt in annoyance with another swig of his booze.

The things he did for Alastor's sake...

* * *

The meal passed without further incident, with full stomachs and sated patrons heading off to their rooms and private abodes now that the hour was starting to grow late. In a way, it was just like the night that had kicked off this whole shit show. Quiet and with too much time to think on things. So thought Angel.  
The spider was leaning against the wall outside of the dining room, a cigarette trailing wispy smoke through the air in one of his hands. His others were either resting in his pockets or folded, taking a rather large drag to still himself. It was frankly embarrassing to be _this_ on edge waiting to just talk to someone, making him extra thankful that Husk had yet to appear at the bar proper to be a witness.  
He wasn't sure how this would end. He was hoping that it would return things to how they were before, with the two demons being able to enjoy each other's company despite everything that had happened. Or maybe it would be the exact opposite. Maybe he'd simply be told that the events in his bedroom had made things too complicated to maintain even a friendship any more. Angel hated that uncertainty.

At that moment, the door to his left opened and the spider's head jerked up to see who was there. He felt his throat turn dry when it turned out to be the one he'd been waiting for. Alastor adjusted his glasses before he noticed Angel was standing there, his hands still partially damp from having helped Niffty clean up. He brushed them against his waistcoat before he fixed out his gloves from his pocket, sliding them back on before pinning them behind his back.  
“Glad you could make it,” he said warmly, nodding his head towards the bar stools just behind the star's tall frame. “Would you sit with me?”  
Angel didn't respond verbally, pushing himself off the wall and taking a final inhale of his smoke to get rid of the rest of it. As he slid onto a seat, he pushed the stub into the work surface to extinguish it as Alastor walked around the other side of the bar.  
  
“A drink?” he suggested, causing Angel to look up from with a fold of his arms.  
“Ya sure kitty cat's gonna like that?”  
“What he doesn't know won't hurt him,” the deer shrugged with a flash of his teeth, reaching below the bar to pull out two whiskey glasses and a bottle of Alastor's favourite bourbon. The spider wasn't much of a drinker of that sort of thing, but he agreed with a nod and a fleeting glimpse of a smile.   
Alastor uncorked and poured in a fluid motion, nudging one of the glasses towards Angel before finishing with a few ice cubes. He then sipped a decent amount from his own and set it down, perhaps to fortify his constitution over the subject that hung in air. About them.

After leaving his drink to the side, Alastor leaned against the bar with his hands on top of each other. Angel took a drink himself, keeping his gaze intently focused on the deer with an almost shy look about him, even if he'd never admit he felt that way.   
“... so what did ya wanna talk about?” came the question. Of course, Angel knew the answer, but he was still trying to maintain a collected air about him by playing dumb. The Radio Demon's smile twitched, likening it to the first time they'd spoken at length in this very spot. No sense trying to beat around the bush.

“I suppose I should begin with... yet _another_ apology,” he finally said, his eyes falling to his hands. “What I said to you yesterday morning was wrong of me. I did not intend to make you feel as though I was shutting you out.”  
“Nah. Ya were right to tell me to back off, Al,” Angel disagreed, running his finger in a slow circle along the bar. “Ya told me not do what I did but I did it anyway. _I_ fucked up.”  
“Angel, you don't need to be sorry for that.”  
“Why shouldn't I be? You ain't the one that forced _me_ to kiss ya. I shouldn'ta done it, end of. I know what that's like...”

Alastor felt his heart pulse with another sensation that he still hadn't gotten used to yet when he heard that. Sympathy. No doubt the spider was speaking from experience. He watched as Angel's head lowered, dragging his glass a little closer and clasping onto it firmly with both of his upper hands. That wouldn't stand.  
“Not everything bad that happens is your doing,” the deer assured him, the sound of his voice making Angel focus on him. “Please, my dear. I would despise it if you felt the need to blame yourself around me like you do around him.”

As blunt and to-the-point as it was in typical Alastor fashion, Angel had nothing to say against it. Valentino _had_ literally beaten that habit into him and it was rearing its ugly head here, that something was always his fault when it went wrong. The Radio Demon's closest attempt at a frown showed itself as he braced himself for what he was about to say.  
“The truth is that what happened was my fault. I was apprehensive of what that night meant. Maybe even... nervous.”  
Angel blinked in surprise. For Alastor to admit that was quite the thing to say.   
“Nervous...?”  
“I told you that situations such as this have never been an interest of mine, nor an experience I have ever had before now,” he explained, his deep red eyes wandering as he spoke. “I did not know what those feelings were, nor if I really wanted them, so I decided to ignore them instead. But all that did was make you act in a way you're not comfortable with, for my sake. And even if I had been successful using such unfair treatment on you... you're ultimately right. There... _is_ something there.”

Angel's heart thrummed as he almost recoiled at the words, his mouth falling open. Alastor's hands were now clenched together hard, the Radio Demon's hair partially falling in front of his eyes as the air became charged with static interference from his head falling forward. The nearby speaker on the wall of the bar began to twitch to life, the lights on the front of it flickering on as a faint song could be heard in-between the rolling distortions.

_Still I'm broken-hearted  
'cause I can't get started with you_

Alastor almost flinched when he realised it was _that_ song. He should've made sure to smash the damn thing before he did any of this, knowing his emotional state would make this awkward or humiliating if there was a way to broadcast such things while he was trying to approach this as professionally as he could.   
His head was screaming at him to leave like he had done the other night before things got too out of hand. Maybe he didn't have to face it after all, it would surely not go down well to have toyed with Angel's emotions so flippantly like this. His eyes flared with light, transforming to the distinctive silhouette of his namesake's dials. Maybe it wasn-  
“Al.”  
  
It all stopped. Alastor's head darted up. His smile was crooked, it was obvious his breathing was strained thanks to that horrible tension in his heart. But seeing Angel's face staring back at him made it easier to handle. Not pleasant, but not as jarring.  
“I... apologise,” he answered, reaching for his alcohol. “My powers can be hard to control in certain situations...”  
“Don't,” Angel urged him, keeping his voice hushed as he leaned in closer. He was having to resist the need to just grab the stupid deer for another kiss to shut his worries up, to show that he cared no matter how the other demon acted about this.  
But he stayed still, even with his heartbeat becoming almost painfully quick. It had been a big deal for the other demon to admit that and he didn't want to sour things for the third time in a row. Remember what Cherri said. Give him space. No pressure.

Angel decided to take a gulp from his glass to shoo away what his heart was yearning for and kept his voice down for their privacy, even if no one else was around. Never could be too careful with the prying busybodies in this place.  
“Listen, Al. I know bein' with someone' ain't yer thing, even with what ya told me. Fuck knows it ain't been my thing before either... but I still shouldn'ta forced anythin' on ya in the first place.”  
“Angel...”  
“It's okay,” the spider interrupted, giving a forced smile to try and smother his sad inflection. “Even though I meant what I said about how I feel about ya... If ya don't wanna go further, rather not talk about it again, then... then I'd understand.”

Alastor huffed, his expression gentle as the white noise of his static started to blur into itself in a haze. How Angel could continue to be so considerate for him given his reputation for selfishness and crass behaviour was beyond him. But it made it clear that the very least he could do was at least show some consideration back. And some honesty.  
“But...” he suddenly interrupted, getting the spider's attention. “What if I said I'd been continuing to entertain the thought...?”

Before Angel even had a chance to ask what he meant, one of Alastor's hands suddenly reached out and grasped Angel's over the bar. The star audibly gasped, his heart leaping into his throat just as the other demon's radio noises flared up in volume like they'd just caught up with what he'd done.   
With his gaze off to the side and his face starting to darken against his pale skin, it was clear Alastor had allowed these emotions to run free for just a moment to do this. He never would have done so otherwise. His hold was firm, but not enough to be painful on the spider's claws. It was almost like he was using the touch for literal support.

“The truth is that I _do_ think you're wonderful to be around. And you really are unlike any other sinner who has crossed my path. I _like_ being with you. I simply doubt I would be a suitable partner for you in a... romantic sense. Knowing how I am about... relations.”   
Alastor said so honestly, his ears falling limp. He didn't know the first thing about relationships or caring for someone, he'd never _needed_ to know before now. And contemplating it further was practically pointless if the pair of them did decided to remain as they were. Maybe it would be better, after everything he'd done to hurt his counterpart.

But when he heard Angel inhale sharply at those words, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat, it seemed to snap him back to focusing on the other demon. Even more so with how the star sounded more than a little emotional himself as he spoke.  
“...I think I'd be pretty shitty at it too, babe...” he admitted, knowing full well that his earned fame was not exactly from being virtuous and pure, or having anything close to an SO before. Alastor allowed a smirk to come out, adjusting himself to this unusually hot but calming sensation starting to each off the tension in his core.

He rubbed a thumb over Angel's hand as they went quiet, taking the time to enjoy the subtle yet affectionate gesture. He supposed, if it was him making the first move, it was actually rather nice to hold him in this way... Angel's hands felt soft, even through his gloves. Rather fitting actually.  
However, the serenity of the moment was broken when Alastor felt another of Angel's claws rest on top of his, another tuning noise blaring as he jolted in surprise at being touched without warning. He swallowed, watching as the arachnid seemed to have trouble coming up with the right words as well.

“But... I mean, we... w-we could give it a shot... right?” Angel suggested, his eyes wide and endearing in the same way as after their dinner date. “I don't mean like jumpin' into heavy stuff or makin' a big deal out of it, rushin' or nothin'... but just seein' what happens, ya know? Slow...”   
Alastor's creased brow relaxed from being startled, arching upwards in an almost intrigued manner.  
“A... trial run, if you will?”  
“Yeah. Somethin' like that... if it don't work, then at least we tried, right? And if it _does_... then...”

The Radio Demon's grin widened at seeing Angel act so shy, such a contradiction to how he always had been. It was rather... cute, for lack of a better term. And more than that, he liked how his suggestion was phrased.   
No intense change to their daily interactions, no forcing each other into a role or altering their behaviours. But just exploring these new feelings together to see what would become of them. That was rather fascinating to consider...

“I think that sounds...” Alastor started, his voice becoming deeper and reverberating through his chest. “ _Very_ interesting, my dear.”  
“...really?” hushed Angel, his voice nearly a whisper as he used one of his spare hands to try and still his heartbeat from the outside. “Ya'd... really be okay takin' a chance on me? Even after everythin' that's gone down...?”  
“I've taken many chances with you already. This is just the next logical step in the sequence, is it not?”

Angel smirked, finding it funny how Alastor still had to try and be as formal as possible even in what should be a tender moment. But he didn't care. Because it _was_ still tender, more so than anything he'd felt in decades. More than his clientele, more than his family, definitely more than the boss... he could scarcely believe it was real.  
Those people were so far removed from the spider's mind as he sniffed in his weakened state, his grip on the deer's hands tensing up like he was making a solemn vow. He would _not_ ruin this. Not now.

“I _promise_ I won't make it weird. Or make ya do anythin' ya don't wanna. Or act all flirty an' shit in front o' the others an'-”  
“I know you won't,” Alastor assured him, his radio noises actually now calmed down enough at their hands being together that it was merely background hiss now. “I shall... attempt to show considerations for you as well if you are sure about this. It is only fair.”  
“I _am_ sure...” Angel beamed, blinking a few times to try and stop himself getting all weepy and stupid again. “I won't let ya down again, Al. Whatever happens next, in this stupid place or anywhere else in this fuckin' hellhole... then I'm happy I get to try somethin' like this with ya.”  
“I couldn't think of a better person to experience the trials and tribulations of... attraction with for the first time either, Angel,” Alastor admitted, his expression relaxing into the softest anyone had ever seen it. And it was something Angel noticed.

“Careful...” the spider hummed back, his smile wide across his face as he leaned in a little closer. “Keep talkin' like that an' someone might think yer actually bein' _nice_ to me now. Wouldn't do for the big bad Radio Demon to be a softie now, huh?”  
“They may think what they like,” the deer replied as the arachnid took a moment to down another swallow of alcohol. He suddenly found a spark of inspiration, his smile turning slick. “Though I'm certain you'll claim to be doing everything in your power to ensure I'm _not_ soft, hm?”

Angel coughed, almost spraying his drink all over the bar in shock. Did _Alastor_ of all people just use a sex joke? Against _him?_  
“W-What the hell?!” he blurted out after he swallowed, his wide-eyed gaze fixed upon the deer. Seeing that reaction for himself made Alastor burst out laughing as the spider growled, his cheeks now a furious red burning through the white and pink at having a strength of used against him so effectively.  
“I can see why you always made comments like this towards me if that is how I reacted. Wonderful!”  
“Fuck you!”  
“You wish.”  
Even as much as Angel muttered under his breath at what the other had managed to pull off, he couldn't stay mad at him. Truth was, it was actually masterfully played.  
“Yeah, well, just remember who's got more experience with that kinda thing...”  
“I'm sure you won't allow me to forget, darling.”

Angel squeezed Alastor's hands at that name, biting his lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. Holy shit, this _was_ really happening wasn't it? Valentino was _wrong_. He was actually going to _be_ with someone, he was going to be with _Alastor_.   
Christ, he was _holding his fucking hand_.  
The room went quiet again, but the flare in his face burned almost permanently now. But not in a way that he wanted to get rid of it like before, to try and contain his emotions in a mantra that had been drilled into his head for so many long decades.  
Because right now, in this moment of the Radio Demon agreeing that maybe they could make _something_ work in this literal hellhole... well, to say he'd felt the happiest he'd felt in years at having a partner... maybe a _lover_ , wouldn't be a stretch. There was only one way he could think of to try and make it official to themselves as his eyes became lost in the deep red of Alastor's.

“So... it's a deal, then?”   
He watched Alastor blink after being caught off-guard by it, seeming mildly surprised at his own phrasing being used on him before he shook himself back to an alert status. Despite his own cheeks now a darker hue than the rest of him, the Radio Demon nodded slowly with a genuine, gentle smile.  
He felt a surge of bravado shoot through his body as leaned over the bar toward Angel, right until their they were mere centimetres from each other and causing the spider's eyes to widen at their personal spaces merging. It was almost too perfect, a ripe opportunity to make good on the spoiled first kiss by making it up with a _real_ one...

But Alastor found he could go no further than that. His lip twitched as nerves got the better of him and he slowly backed away with an apologetic sigh escaping him. He was still very poor at this, especially if his reaction to mere hand holding was anything to go by. An actual kiss, started by him, was _far_ too much at that moment...   
“Curses... I am sorry, I-”  
Yet even despite that, Alastor only heard Angel's gentle giggle and a tighter hold on his gloves in response. The arachnid was still radiating positivity and he nodded in unspoken understanding. He could be patient for as long as it took, even if it ended up being years down the line. Maybe a proper legitimate first kiss would be in the cards when they were ready. For now, Angel only repeated his enquiry.

“Still waitin' on an answer, hot stuff...”  
Alastor's confident smile emerged again as he cleared his throat. He would grace him with one word, one that was just as thrilling as his failed attempt.

“Deal.”


End file.
